When You Need Me Most
by EstellaDoreaBlack
Summary: Hawkeye Pierce might just be the most irritating doctor Margaret has ever met. But when it really mattered, he's always been there. Now a knock on her door bids her to return the favor. HM if you want it to be. Semi-sequel to Operation Margaret
1. Chapter One: Midnight Knock

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

**This fic is rated T for mentions of rape (nothing graphic, which is why it's not an M). If you don't like it, don't read it.**

**This story is a semi-sequel to my one-shot _Operation Margaret. _Not entirely necessary to read it first but highly recommended.**

_**Chapter One: Midnight Knock**_

A knock on Margaret's door startled her out of her half-sleep and she sighed. She really hoped it was late-night mail call or something. She couldn't think of a single other reason for someone to visit her, at least not one she'd find favorable. Frank had been paying her unexpected visits at all hours of the day since she'd broken up with him six weeks earlier, and even more so since she'd come back from Tokyo a month ago with a ring on her finger.

"Who's there?" she asked resignedly.

"It's me, Margaret."

She was glad he was still standing on the other side of the door so he couldn't see her face. She quickly rearranged it into a mask of neutrality. Pierce was better than Frank anyway, though not much better.

"What the hell do you want?" It came out more harshly than she'd really intended, but it was no more than he deserved, waking her in the middle of the night like that.

"Can I come in? I want to talk to you."

She couldn't help a sudden flare of anger. She'd had a rough couple of days, they all had, a large batch of wounded and Frank pestering her non-stop on top of it, and now he was bothering her in the middle of the night because he wanted to talk to her?

"Absolutely not! Is that what you woke me up for? To _chat_? After a ten-hour OR session?"

"Margaret, no, it's not -"

"Leave me alone!" She grabbed the first unbreakable thing she could find - which happened to be her pillow - and hurled it at the door. "Go away!"

"You promised," he said softly, but she was too angry to really hear him. Only after she had replaced her pillow on her bed and laid down did she calm down enough to wonder over the meaning of his strange statement, and she fell asleep before she could come up with an answer.

xxxxxxxxx

Hawkeye took slow steps away from the Head Nurse's private tent, hoping his last statement would get through and she'd open her door, let him in. But after a few moments, he had to admit that didn't seem likely. He was grateful not to run into a sentry. It was all he could do to breathe around the lump in his throat, let alone say even a few words.

He sank onto his cot, grateful that his roommates were already asleep. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now. At least not anyone except the one person who'd just turned him down.

He sat up and poured himself a drink. Maybe if he got enough of the stuff in him, he'd be able to fall asleep. But the moment the first sip touched his mouth, he was overcome by a desire to spit it out. He sighed and sank back to his cot. So he wouldn't be sleeping tonight after all.

xxxxxxxxx

Margaret was surprised to see BJ Hunnicutt enter the mess tent alone. He and Pierce had been practically inseparable since the younger doctor's first day in camp, and she have figured Pierce would be regaling Hunnicutt with tales of the R&R in Tokyo he'd returned from two days earlier.

Speak of the devil - "Mind if I join you?"

"No, not at all." The young doctor might be following in Pierce's shadow a bit, but he was nowhere near the level of, say, Trapper John McIntyre, the man he'd replaced. Though she'd never admit it, she'd begun to like him.

"Major, you've been around this unit awhile, haven't you?"

"Yes. Over a year."

"About as long as Hawkeye."

"Yes. Is this interrogation going somewhere?"

"I'm worried about him Ever since he got back from Tokyo he's been acting strange."

"Strange how?"

"He hasn't said a word about his trip. Frankly, he's barely said a word about anything, and you know as well as I do it's usually hard to shut him up. But I needed a second opinion."

Margaret frowned. Now that Hunnicutt mentioned it, he was right. Hawkeye had been more somber than usual in the OR. In fact, that little conversation they'd had through her door the previous night had been the most she'd heard him say at once. And that really wasn't like him at all.

"You're right," she admitted. "It is strange."

And much as she hated to admit it, she was worried too.

xxxxxxxxx

It was an exhausted and thoroughly frustrated Margaret Houlihan who stumbled back to the supply tent. She couldn't believe she'd done something as stupid as leaving her watch in there. Now she had to go back and get it, when all she really wanted to do was sleep.

Fortunately, the errant timepiece hadn't been buried too badly, and she found it in a few minutes. She was on her way out when she heard a soft snuffling sound.

"Oh, not again." They'd only just cleared the rats out of the supply tent. She hurried towards the sound, hoping she could take care of this one before it chewed through anything important. She flipped the light on and gasped in surprise.

There was no rat to be seen. Only Hawkeye Pierce. And he was crying.

**Several readers of _Operation Margaret_ had said they wanted a sequel. This is it. Hope you enjoy.**

**Please review.**


	2. Chapter Two: No Rest For the Weary

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Two: No Rest For the Weary**_

Every shred of anger she'd felt towards him for waking her up last night evaporated in an instant. She hurried to him, expecting to see some sort of injury, but he appeared unharmed.

"Pierce?" No response. "Hawkeye?"

Bloodshot eyes fixed on her. "You promised," he whispered, just as he had the previous night. "You promised I could talk to you."

It hit her suddenly, what had been nagging at her all day. The conversation they'd had all those months ago rang in her head as strongly as if it had been yesterday.

_"If you need someone to talk to, ever, about anything, just give me a sign and I'll be there."_

_"That goes both ways. If you ever need to talk to someone, all you need to do is ask."_

"You're right," she said softly. "I did promise, and I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking clearly last night."

"Obviously." His sarcastic edge, usually playful, came off as biting, but she knew she deserved it.

"I really am sorry."

"That doesn't change anything."

"I know." She sighed. "You have every right to be mad at me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"No!" he said with enough intensity to freeze her in place. "I'm sorry, Margaret, really. I didn't mean to snap. Please don't go. Please."

He sounded so much like a frightened child that it broke her heart, and she dropped to her knees in front of him. "I'm not going anywhere. Why don't you tell me what's been eating you?"

"What do you mean?" He tried, valiantly, to smile but it was a losing battle. "This is just my reaction to a bad date."

"Like hell. You haven't been acting like yourself since you came back from Tokyo, and I'm not the only one who's noticed. Now, what's going on?"

"I - I _can't_ -" he gasped, his face twisting in impossible pain.

"Yes, you can," she whispered encouragingly. "Just tell me."

"I was in Tokyo, in a bar, and I bumped into this girl. Prettiest thing, I tell you, and she seemed every bit as interested in me as I was in her. I bought her a couple drinks, and then she asked me if I wanted to go somewhere more private. I said I did, she said she knew a place. We walked together - her hair looked so beautiful under the streetlights." He knew he was rambling, but he was getting closer and closer to the part of his story he _really_ didn't want to revisit. "She led me into this place, but there were already some guys there, I figured we'd walked in on some kids blowing off some steam or something. I suggested we go find another place, and she laughed and shut the door and said we'd come to exactly the right place." He drew a shaky breath. "Two of them took me by the arms and another one pulled my shirt off, and I thought they were going to beat me up for whatever reason. Then," he forced back tears, "the same guy started to undo my belt and take my pants off. And I got a good look at his face, and I - I knew exactly what he was going to do." He broke off abruptly, unable to say any more. Just getting to that point had taken incredible effort.

The next thing he knew, Margaret's arms were wrapped tightly around his shoulders and she was holding him close, rocking them both gently, stroking his hair. His own arms went around her waist, clinging to her for dear life, his entire body shaking with the effort of holding back his emotions.

Then her hair was brushing his face, and her voice was in his ear. "Shh, I'm here. I'm here. Just let it out, Hawkeye. Let it all out."

If she had thought he was really crying hard before, she'd been sorely mistaken. He broke down completely at her words, burying his face against her neck. Painful sobs shook his entire body, and he let out several long wails, muffled by her shoulder. She held him tighter, just letting him cry, still rocking him like a baby. She could no longer hold back her own tears, and they fell in his hair.

"They all took turns," he sobbed once he found his voice again. "Two of them would hold me down while one would - and then she wanted to get in on it, the girl that brought me there, said she'd earned it for bringing me in, and she made me - I don't understand how she could -"

"Hawkeye, you're a doctor," she whispered soothingly. "You know that that sort of thing can happen. It doesn't mean you liked it or wanted it."

"I should've done something. Fought somehow. I tried, I really did, but there were six of them, not counting her -"

"Hawkeye, you stop that right now," she said firmly. "They hurt you, they used you, and I'm going to tell you what you told me last year, because you need to hear it as much as I did. _It wasn't your fault._ You didn't do anything to bring this on yourself, so stop questioning what you could have done differently. And you sure as hell didn't secretly want it or something. If you have to blame someone, blame them. They deserve it. Don't blame yourself."

Her words stuck a chord in Hawkeye, soothing the part of him that had been filled with guilt over what he might have done. He was overcome by a fresh flood of tears, and Margaret pulled him close again. She could feel him shaking under her hands, terrified even though there was no threat.

"You're safe now, Hawkeye, you're safe," she whispered. "No one's going to hurt you here."

It seemed ages, but he finally stopped crying and lay limp in her arms, exhausted and drained of all energy. She stood slowly, pulling him up with her. "Come on, Hawkeye. You can sleep in my tent tonight."

He let her lead him to the tent, but as soon as he was inside he shook his head. "I don't think I can sleep at all. I haven't slept since - since it happened."

"At least try. You need to sleep."

He slid slowly out of his clothes, fumbling with the buttons and clasps in his weariness. Margaret watched, concerned, but she doubted he'd let her help him right now. He collapsed onto her bunk, no longer having the strength to stay upright.

She slid out of her robe and gently nudged the man in her bed. "Move over."

A look of understanding crossed his face, and he did as she said. Carefully, she laid down next to him, taking him in her arms, and began to rub his back. She felt his tense body relax slightly, and heard the steady, even breathing that indicated he was asleep.

"Good," she whispered, letting her head drop onto his shoulder. "Just sleep. Forget."

She didn't know how long she stayed there, but it couldn't have been very long before she was jarred out of her sleep. Hawkeye had dislodged her when he had bolted partly upright, shaking and sobbing, still half-caught in the grip of a nightmare. His body was drenched with cold sweat, and his breathing was much too fast.

"Hawkeye." She didn't really want to touch him, she was afraid of making it worse. "Hawkeye, you're dreaming. Wake up."

Blue eyes flew open, and Margaret could see that they were filled with panic. They locked on her and cleared up just a little.

"Margaret?"

"It's me. I'm here." Since he had recognized her, she chanced putting her arms around him again. He fell forward against her, still crying. She bit back the reassurances on her lips, _it's okay, it's going to be okay._ She knew better than anyone that it wasn't okay for him right now, and it would never be entirely okay again, but she wanted to say something. She was overcome by the urge to take care of her friend.

"Easy, shh, just lie down, you're safe here, nothing can hurt you. I won't let anything hurt you."

He said nothing, only stared at her through those huge blue eyes, haunted and lost. He looked for all the world like a scared little kid.

"Just hold onto me. No one's going to hurt you anymore."

He was gripping her so tightly she could barely breathe, but she didn't care. She remembered nights spent sobbing into her pillow, clinging to a battered stuffed toy she had to hide so her father wouldn't see it because she didn't have anyone to hold or be held by. She remembered the restless slumber, muffling her screams so he wouldn't become angry with her. She remembered the pain she had tucked away and carried with her for nine years, until one man had finally encouraged her to feel, held her and cared for her.

This man lay against her now, hurting as she had once hurt, longing to be held as he had held her, and she knew that if she could spare him one tiny bit of the pain she'd suffered, being held in his crushing embrace was a small price to pay.

xxxxxxxxx

Hawkeye woke slowly, disoriented. There was something about the tent that was distinctly unfamiliar. It didn't look anything like the Swamp he was used to. On top of that, there was a weight pressing down on his chest and shoulder. He glanced down to see a head of blond hair.

_Wow, what exactly was I doing last night? Is that why I feel so sore?_

He shifted a little to try and determine the source of his discomfort, and a sharp pain through his ribcage brought him back to the moment. All at once he remembered what had happened last night, and more importantly what had happened a few days ago. He wished he hadn't. Those few moments of disorientation and uncertainty were the best he'd felt since before - no, he couldn't let his mind go there.

Margaret stirred from where she was wrapped around him, blinking her eyes sleepily. "Oh - good morning."

Even in the state he was in, Hawkeye was still Hawkeye. "You look tired. I didn't keep you up all night, did I?"

"No, not really." That was true. She'd managed to catch some sleep in the intervals between Hawkeye's nightmares. "Anyway, I don't mind. You needed someone to take care of you, and I know you'd have done the same for me."

Hawkeye tried to respond, but his voice caught in his sore throat and he started coughing. Instantly Margaret was sitting upright, concerned, starting to check him over. "Hawkeye, when was the last time you drank anything? You're dehydrated."

"I can't stand liquids," he admitted. "Just that feeling in my mouth makes me sick."

He saw her eyes soften with understanding. "Oh, Hawkeye. They -?"

He nodded, trying to choke back his tears. _God knows I cried enough last night!_ It seemed she noticed, however, because she hugged him tightly. He lay in her arms for a long moment before she slowly pulled away.

"Hawkeye, I'm sorry, but you really do need to get some fluids in your system. Wait here for me, okay?"

He nodded and she slipped out, returning with a glass of water, which she handed to him, sitting down next to him.

"Take a small sip," she said quietly, and he obliged. Bile rose in his throat again as soon as the water hit his mouth, but he felt Margaret's hand on his back and that kept him grounded. "Okay, now swallow. There."

She coaxed him through another sip, and another, but by the fourth he was able to get the liquid down by himself. Once he got over the gag reflex, he realized how thirsty he was. The liquid felt wonderful in his aching throat, and he gulped the rest without hesitation.

"There. Better?"

He still couldn't force a smile, but the look in his eyes conveyed his gratitude. "A little. Thanks."

"I assume you've been eating as much as you've been drinking."

His silence was as good an answer as any.

"Do you think you could stomach a little bit of food?"

He just shrugged and shook his head slightly, looking heartbreakingly lost and confused. Margaret pulled him to her, wrapping her arms so tightly around him that he couldn't muffle a soft whimper of pain as she put pressure on his still-sore body. Instantly, she let up on him.

"God, you're hurt! I didn't even think - Hawkeye, did you see a doctor in Tokyo?"

"Don't need one. I know what's going on with me."

Margaret sighed. "Don't even try to pull that one. Being a doctor doesn't make you qualified to self-diagnose, and you know it."

"Okay, fine. I just didn't want to see one. Happy?"

"No. You need medical attention. Why the hell didn't you see a doctor?"

"What's a doctor but another stranger putting his hands all over me?" Again, the sarcasm faded in the face of his distress. "I did think about it, but the idea of anyone touching me, even in a professional capacity, made me sick. I couldn't deal with it."

"Oh, God, Hawkeye. I didn't even think - I mean -"

"I know."

"Would you -" she stopped, uncertain. "Would you let someone here look at you, then? Hunnicutt, maybe? I know you're friends."

"No!" he said forcefully. "I can't - I can't tell him."

"Why not?"

"I can't do that to him. If it were Trapper, maybe, but not BJ. He's barely dealing with Korea and everything he's seen as it is, if I told him - no. It's not happening. And before you ask, there's no way I'm letting Frank anywhere near me."

"Believe me, that's two of us. And I suppose you have some reason you're not telling the Colonel?"

"I'm just not - not entirely sure what I think of him yet. I mean, I like him, I respect him, but tell him something this personal? The one thing we have never been is personal, and I don't think I can bear to cross that line now of all times."

She sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was push him when she knew he was feeling vulnerable. "Then at least let me take a look. I may not be a doctor but I know something about injuries."

He didn't actually respond, but he slowly peeled off his shirt and laid down on the bed. It nearly brought her to tears. The gesture itself was so small, but the trust it conveyed was monumental for someone who had gone through everything Hawkeye had.

She gasped when she saw the bruising on his body. If it was this bad now, she could only imagine how it must have looked four days ago. He must have been in so much pain the whole time - how had he stayed on his feet for the ten-hour OR session? She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. This shouldn't be getting to her like it was. She'd seen men with their insides literally falling out, a few bruises was nothing compared to that.

But this wasn't just some soldier. This was Hawkeye, a man she'd worked beside for over a year. This was the man who'd looked after her when they'd stayed behind during the bug-out, who had held her close during those horrible days at the aid station, who had been there for her when she couldn't keep her own traumas buried anymore. If she was to be honest with herself, Hawkeye was the best friend she had in the world, and seeing him in pain hurt her more than any wound she might see on anyone else.

"I'm going to touch you now, okay?" She didn't want to startle him.

"Okay."

She slowly placed her hands on his bare torso. "Why don't you tell me what medical opinion you've come up with about yourself?"

"Cracked ribs, two on the left, one on the right. A lot of bruising. And some, uh, tearing -"

"I understand." She could tell from the look in his eyes that just describing his injuries was bringing back the memories of how he'd gotten them, and she moved a hand from his ribcage to stroke his hair.

"I think you were right," she said after a long silence. "Let me get something to bandage your ribs. And something for the pain, too. I can't believe you've been trying to function, hurt like this."

"It helps."

"What?"

"When I'm working, I can stop thinking so much about - other things."

"I know," she said softly. Giving in to her instincts, she leaned down and gently kissed the top of his head before slipping out of her tent to get the required supplies.

xxxxxxxxx

"Not much of a breakfast there, son."

Hawkeye gritted his teeth a little. He knew the old Colonel was only trying to make conversation, but he really didn't want any attention called to his rather unusual meal. Burnt or not, the toast was the only thing on the line he'd found remotely appetizing - that is, he thought he could swallow it without throwing up.

"Just not that hungry," he finally managed, truthfully enough. He felt too sick to be hungry.

The man's face took on a concerned frown. "Are you all right? You've been eating like a bird these last few days."

"More like a fish," BJ put in as he sat down, "at least if his shower time is any indication."

Hawkeye felt his heart leap into his throat. "What are you talking about?" he asked, praying his face didn't betray signs of the panic he felt.

"Oh, c'mon, Hawk. You've been spending enough time in the shower for three people, and you know it. Trying to compensate for Radar?"

Again, Hawkeye took a deep breath, praying he could keep a straight face. _I thought no one would notice. _Hawkeye had, in fact, realized he was taking a lot of time in the showers, but he could hardly help it. No matter how long he washed, how hot the water, how hard he scrubbed, he still felt like he was covered in grime. He felt like he could never be clean again.

That thought broke what little control he'd had over his stomach, and he instantly stood and bolted for the door, nearly knocking Frank down in the process.

"Figures," the older surgeon sniffed. "Can dish it out all he likes but can't even take a tiny joke."

"Oh, shut up," Margaret snapped. For once, she was glad she was fighting with Frank constantly. In this case, it meant she could snap at him all she wanted and no one would find it odd.

Hawkeye reentered the tent a few moments later, looking pale and a little shaky on his feet. "Sorry about that. Something about this food."

"Disagrees with you?" Hunnicutt asked.

"More like despises," Hawkeye shot back, again trying for a smile.

"Maybe you picked something up in Tokyo," Potter suggested. Margaret grimaced sympathetically, knowing the man was a lot closer to the truth than he realized.

"Yeah, maybe." He prodded at his food uninterestedly. "At any rate, I'm not remotely hungry."

He left the rest of his meal untouched.

xxxxxxxxx

"Hawkeye, are you okay?"

_Oh, not again._ "I'm fine. Really." _No, I'm not fine, but what else am I supposed to say?_ He'd made his feelings on the matter clear to Margaret, and he wasn't going back on it. BJ didn't need Hawkeye to burst what little he had left of his bubble, no matter how miserable he felt.

BJ opened his mouth to press the issue, but another voice cut him off. "_Attention all personnel! Incoming wounded! Repeat, incoming wounded._"

Hawkeye could never be grateful for wounded, but he couldn't help a tiny sense of gratitude for the timing. BJ was out the door before he was, and the topic of Hawkeye's strange behavior was abandoned.

**Any regular readers of mine are probably wondering this by now, so I'll stave off the questions: despite the fact that a lot of my stories involve sexual assault at some point or other, I am not myself a sexual assault survivor. My focus on the topic probably had more to do with the fact that I'm taking women's studies classes and working for the women's center on campus. **

**Please review.**


	3. Chapter Three: The Road To Recovery

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Three: The Road To Recovery**_

"I can take another one. Corpsman!"

Klinger and a private whose name Hawkeye couldn't remember scurried up to take Hawkeye's current patient into post-op, and two others carried in another.

"He was giving us some trouble outside," BJ warned. "I think he may be hysterical."

"Got it. Baker, put him under."

She reached for the anesthesia mask, but when she went to clamp it over his face, all hell broke loose. The man reared up, knocking the mask aside and sending the woman sprawling. Then he grabbed hold of the first person he could get his hands on. Unfortunately, that happened to be his surgeon.

This wasn't, by a long shot, the first patient who had ever grabbed at Hawkeye from the operating table. But the injured man was larger and stronger than the doctor, and almost immediately had him in a firm grip.

Everyone in the room had turned to determine the source of the commotion, and Margaret, standing only two tables away, saw the change in Hawkeye. All at once, his body went rigid, and his fighting became less focused and more desperate.

Hawkeye tried desperately to keep his head, to remember where he was and what he was doing, but memories of every other patient he'd ever wrestled with couldn't compete with the memory of other men pinning him, holding him so he couldn't escape.

He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. All he knew was _get out get out get out_, but he couldn't. Arms held him fast. _No no no get out get out now_ and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Baker, get a sedative!" Margaret snapped. Her voice spurred the Lieutenant into action, and she grabbed a hypodermic, pressing it into the patient. Almost instantly, he fell limp, Hawkeye tumbling from his grasp to land on his knees on the floor. He doubled over forward, gasping for air, making no effort to rise, and Margaret saw that he had gone as white as his mask.

"Pierce, you all right?" Potter asked, concerned. He bent over Hawkeye, but the young surgeon crawled backwards, staring at him in panic.

"I need free hands over here. Someone take Hawkeye's patient. And someone get him outside for a minute too!"

"Kellye!" Margaret snapped, signaling for the nurse to take over for her. She hurried over to Hawkeye and gently pulled him up by the arm. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

Hawkeye wasn't entirely sure what was going on. He knew the tight grip had released, and he fell to his knees, gasping for air. He knew he should run, but he couldn't get his legs to work. A figure bent over him, and he scurried backwards as fast as he could on his knees. He heard shouting, a lot of shouting, and then someone took his arm, and a familiar voice spoke into his ear.

_Yes, get out of here. With Margaret, Margaret will take care of me._ He leaned heavily on her arm as she led him out and let her sit him on a bench in the scrub room.

Margaret grabbed hold of a towel and ran it under cold water. She wrung it out so that it wasn't dripping, then pulled off Hawkeye's mask and began sponging his face. His breathing slowed to a normal rate, and he leaned into her hand. She dropped the towel and took him in her arms, running her hands up and down his back. He was shivering violently, still too shocked and worked up to hug her back, but resting against her.

"Shh, just take deep breaths, you'll feel better in a few minutes." She wished she could give him a sedative, just something to take the edge off, but there were a lot of wounded left, and they couldn't afford to risk compromising his work. So she held him, hoping she could get him calmed down without drugs.

"Is Captain Pierce okay, ma'am?" Earnest eyes watched from behind large, round glasses.

"He'll be fine, Corporal. He just needs a few minutes."

Radar ducked back out, and Margaret continued comforting her friend. He slowly stopped trembling, but tears still glittered in his blue eyes.

"Feeling better?" She knew better than to ask if he was all right.

"I feel sick," he said weakly. "Lucky I threw up earlier. There's nothing left in me to throw up now."

Margaret picked up the towel and resumed wiping his sweat-covered face. "I know this is going to be hard at first. Just hold on. It'll get better, Hawkeye. Really."

"I suppose you'd know if anyone would."

"Trust me, Hawkeye. If I have anything to say about it, it'll be easier for you."

"Why's that?"

"Because I didn't have anyone. You have me. Come on. You think you can get back in there?"

"Yeah, I think so." Hawkeye stood on shaky legs and made his way over to the sink. He turned the water on as hot as it would go, and began scrubbing his hands, fiercely trying to remove the dirt. He didn't know how long it had been before Margaret took his arms in her hands and pulled them out from under the faucet.

"Hawkeye, you scrub anymore and you'll rub your hands raw."

"Margaret, I can't operate like this. Even you know the rules. My hands are supposed to be clean."

"Hawkeye, your hands are clean."

"Then _why don't they feel that way_?" His anger evaporated as quickly as it had flared. "I'm sorry, Margaret. I just -"

"I know. Come on." She tied his mask back over his face and then fixed her own. "Duty calls."

xxxxxxxxx

"What would you want from home, if you could have anything?"

Despite an impossibly long OR session, Hawkeye was once again having trouble sleeping. Margaret had decided that talking for awhile might help him calm down a bit, though she suspected he wouldn't be returning to the Swamp.

"Well, I'm not sure. Good food, clothes that aren't green, there's so much to choose from."

"There must be something. Something you miss more than anything." She caught the look on his face. "Uh-huh. Come on, tell me."

"You'll think it's stupid."

"I won't laugh." She wondered what crazy thing it was he was craving.

"My dad," he said softly.

"Really?"

"I told you it was stupid."

"No, it's not that. It's just, from where I'm looking at it that's hard to understand."

"What do you mean?"

"I was never close to my parents. I respected them, don't get me wrong, but my mother was always distant, and my father even more so. Then they divorced, I lived with him, my sister lived with her, and it just got worse. Nothing I could ever do was good enough for him, especially after - never mind." She kicked herself mentally. She was supposed to be taking his mind _off_ his problem, not bringing up something that would direct his attention back to it.

Hawkeye's hand covered hers. "He doesn't deserve the kind of effort you've been putting in. Certainly if he'd -" God, it had been so much easier talking about Margaret's past when it wasn't so directly related to his present.

"Don't. I'm sorry, you shouldn't be worrying about me. So, why your father?"

"What? Oh." He took a deep breath. "Well, my family quite frankly could hardly be more different from yours. When I was little, I didn't even know families like yours existed. I thought everyone had parents who loved them - everyone I grew up with did, and I certainly did. We were like some sort of TV family, I guess. Up until I was ten, everything was perfect."

"What happened?"

"My mom died suddenly, and Dad and I had our first fight. I was angry because he hadn't told me how sick she was, and I was angry because I needed someone to be angry at. I yelled at him and then we didn't speak for the rest of the day, and then I was so afraid of what he'd say that I prepared this whole speech about how sorry I was, and I walked into his study. I hadn't gotten more than a word out before he hugged me and just started crying and telling me how sorry _he_ was. After that, we just got closer than we'd ever been. Every time I had a nightmare about Mom, or something else went wrong, he was right there taking care of me." Margaret could hear the choke in Hawkeye's voice, see the tears in his eyes. "I know it sounds crazy coming from a thirty-year-old man, but I really, _really_ want my dad right now."

"It's not crazy." Margaret pulled him against her. "When I was where you are now, I would have given _anything_ to be held by my father. He was just more worried about his and my image than my feelings."

"I hope I never meet him. For his sake."

That broke Margaret's composure and she started crying. Hawkeye looked down at her in concern. "Was it something I said?"

"I've never known anyone like you, Hawkeye," she sobbed. "You've just been through one of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone, and you're sitting here worrying about me. Most of the people I've spent my life around don't care about me when there's nothing going on in their own lives."

"Then God only knows where you learned it from."

That shocked her into silence for a few moments before she began sputtering, trying to come up with some sort of response. "Hawkeye, I'm not -"

"Yes, you are. You've taken care of me these past couple days, haven't you?"

"You're hurting. I of all people know you're hurting. How could I not?"

"Only a caring person, a person not like any of the people you've been around, would ask themselves that question."

She hugged him. "You want to stay in here again tonight?"

"Can I?"

"Of course. Just lie down, come on, rest."

"Hold me?"

The childlike, frightened look was back. She wanted to cry, seeing him so helpless. "Of course I will."

She began to rub his back, and he relaxed in her arms, wrapping one arm around her waist to keep her close. She continued the rubbing until he was asleep, then, exhausted and lulled by his even breathing, she dropped off in his arms.

xxxxxxxxx

"Margaret!"

"Oh, God," she muttered. "What do you want, Frank?"

"I want to have a talk with you, Major to Major. Strictly business."

"Get on with it, then."

"It's Captain Pierce. For the past five nights, he hasn't slept once in Officers' Quarters."

"And your point is?"

"Well, who knows what he's been doing? Or where he's been sleeping?"

_If only you knew._ She allowed herself an internal smirk before she answered him. "Where is it you think he's sleeping?"

"I can't be certain, but if I were you, I'd check the nurses' tent."

"Fine. I will. In the meantime, I can't see how it's any of your business."

"Margaret, what is going on with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Last month, you wanted him to perform your appendectomy instead of me. Earlier this week, you stood up for him in the mess tent. And you were the one to take him out when he screwed up in surgery."

"He had a panic attack, he wasn't doing anyone any good in there."

"See, that's exactly what I'm talking about. It's like he's suddenly your best friend, and I'm left behind."

"Frank, listen carefully because I'm only going to explain this once. It's not that I like Pierce." _Even if I do._ "It's that I don't like you."

"What? Why not?"

"Well, what do you expect from an old army mule?" She stormed off before he could get in a retort.

xxxxxxxxx

"He noticed?" Hawkeye asked in dismay.

"Come on, it's Frank. The last thing he'll ever think of is that you might be in pain. I think he thinks you're crashing in the nurses' tent every night."

"It's not that. If Frank, who couldn't care less about me, has noticed, I'll bet you anything BJ has too. And he will ask."

"And you're not budging on telling him."

"Absolutely not."

"You know he would understand."

"That's not the point."

"No, I suppose not."

"Listen, Margaret. I think I need to go back to sleeping in the Swamp."

"They've already noticed. No harm done in a few more days."

"Margaret, I appreciate everything you've done for me more than I could ever express, but I can't lean on you forever. Sooner or later I need to sleep in my own room again, you know?"

"Okay. But if it really gets bad, I want you to come find me."

"Deal."

xxxxxxxxx

"You're back," BJ said in surprise. "Where have you been?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he said teasingly, trying to pretend his heart wasn't in his throat.

"Okay, why did you come back?"

Hawkeye sighed, putting his face in his hands. "I don't want to talk about it."

BJ burst out laughing. "Okay, Hawk. Whatever you say. Want a drink? Finest paint stripper in Korea."

Hawkeye managed a smile for the first time in a week. "Why not?"

As BJ turned to pour the drink, Hawkeye let himself relax. BJ had bought it.

**Don't worry, this story is nowhere near over.**

**Please review. I'm glad to see so many avid followers!**


	4. Chapter Four: Living Nightmare

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Four: Living Nightmare**_

"Hawkeye! Hawk!"

"What? What?"

BJ was bending over him, face lined with concern. "Hawk, are you okay? You were screaming in your sleep."

"Just a nightmare." _Unfortunately, the nightmare happened while I was awake._

"Bad?"

"You don't want to know."

"C'mon, Hawk." BJ wrapped an arm around him. "You're shaking."

"It was just a dream. Nothing for you to worry about." He leaned into BJ's arm, relishing the contact even if he wasn't about to tell BJ what had happened to him.

BJ seemed to understand. "Hey, I'm sure that, whatever this dream's about, it's going to be okay. It was just a dream, Hawk." Part of him felt like kicking himself for talking to Hawkeye like he was talking to his daughter, but another, stronger part said that, no matter what Hawkeye's age, he needed the same reassurances little Erin might under similar circumstances.

_If only it was just a dream. God, I wish it was just a dream. I wish I could be so sure it was going to be okay. _He shivered, trying not to give into his instincts, which were at that moment urging him to burst into tears and cling to his friend, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the facade that nothing was seriously wrong if he did that, so he forced himself to be contented with his friend's gentle embrace. It was a hell of a lot better than nothing.

xxxxxxxxx

"Hawkeye, can I have one more talk with you?"

"Of course, Sidney." He wondered what the psychiatrist wanted, but he liked Sidney well enough, and he had just been able to find the cause of his sleepwalking episodes.

"I spoke to BJ earlier. So your sleepwalking, and the nightmares, began about four days ago, right?"

"Yeah."

"According to BJ, you woke up screaming from a nightmare about three days _before_ the sleepwalking started. I'm thinking there's probably a connection. Do you happen to remember what that nightmare was about?"

Hawkeye felt his blood turn to ice. He managed to force a nod.

"You want to tell me about it?"

"This one I don't need you to interpret for me, Sidney."

"Tell me anyway."

"I'd really rather not."

"In that case, I definitely want you to tell me. What is it, Hawkeye? What's going on in that mind of yours?"

"You promise this is confidential?" Hawkeye whispered.

"Of course."

"The dream - the dream was just a recreation of something that really happened."

"Oh? What would that be?" He knew one of Hawkeye's friends really had died in combat at the 4077 the previous year, and he suspected a connection.

"Sidney, two weeks ago, I went on R&R in Tokyo. While I was there -" the rest came out in an incomprehensible whisper.

"What?" Sidney pressed. It wasn't what he'd been expecting, but he could tell this was the source of serious distress for Hawkeye.

"I was -" Hawkeye stumbled again. It wasn't just an issue with telling someone. It was _the word_, the one word he and Margaret had so carefully avoided, even as it was understood clearly between them. "God, I think I'm going to be sick."

"Take a deep breath, and then tell me. Just say it, whatever it is." He tried not to show that he was starting to get scared. What could happen in Tokyo that could do this much emotional damage to a man who treated shot-up kids on a daily basis?

"I was raped," he said finally. _There, I said it. Happy now?_

Sidney sighed. He'd clearly underestimated Hawkeye's acting skills, to let him pull that kind of a gag. "I don't find that funny. I'm trying to help you, and you once again find the need to make a bad joke, and at the expense of people who've suffered a serious trauma."

"Sidney -" He hadn't even _considered_ this possibly, that if and when he finally did decide to tell people, they wouldn't believe him. "Sidney, _please_."

It was the crack in his voice that made Sidney look up again. Hawkeye's earnest eyes, brimming with barely-repressed tears, met his, and it was with a twist in his stomach that Sidney realized his dire mistake. "Oh, God. I - I didn't - Hawkeye, I'm so sorry."

The soft apology disintegrated Hawkeye's control completely and he began to cry, dropping his face into his hands as he wept. Sidney watched in concern. The counselor in him told him that he shouldn't touch Hawkeye, that he needed to be handled delicately, and that he should keep a professional distance in any case, but the part of him that was _Sidney, _not _Doctor Freedman_, wanted to comfort his sobbing friend.

"Hawkeye." He slowly reached out a hand, trying not to make the surgeon uncomfortable. "Hawkeye, would it be all right if I -?"

He needn't have worried. As soon as he made himself available, Hawkeye fell into his arms, still crying so hard he was shaking, clutching desperately at Sidney's jacket. In that moment, they weren't patient and doctor. They were just friends, and one friend was now comforting the other.

"I really am sorry, Hawkeye," Sidney said once the other man's tears had mostly been spent. "I shouldn't have doubted you or your story."

"You're lucky I need a friend so bad. That really hurt, Sidney."

"I know." He waited for Hawkeye to pull out of the embrace, but when that didn't happen he continued to hold and comfort his friend. "Hawkeye - does anyone else in the camp know about this?"

"Margaret does. She's the only one I felt comfortable telling."

"Major Houlihan? Really?"

"Don't get me wrong, we haven't stopped fighting like cats and dogs. But - we've found in the past that when one of us really needs someone, the other one of us can be counted on to be there."

"Foul-weather friends?"

"You could say that."

"Why haven't you told anyone else?"

"It depends on who else you're referring to. I mean, it's not like I'm going to tell Frank, and I'm not entirely comfortable with Potter yet. Certainly not comfortable enough to tell him something like this."

"What about BJ?"

Hawkeye repeated the reason he'd given Margaret, and Sidney sighed. "So you're protecting him."

"Yeah."

"Have you ever noticed that you treat BJ differently than you treated his predecessor?"

"You mean Trapper? Sidney, BJ's not Trapper."

"Obviously not. Still, I fail to see the distinction that would cause you to treat them so differently. You would never have protected Trapper like this."

"Well, if I can use a family analogy here, Trapper was like my twin or that cousin who you see so much you might as well be brothers. You tell them everything, you spend all your time with them, you know? No secrets. BJ's more like a baby brother. You let them do everything with you, you may be closer than any friends in the world, but when it comes down to it, you're also their protector."

"So it's because BJ's younger than you?"

"Well - yes and no. It's not that he's physically younger, even though he is. It's that he's emotionally younger. He showed up here almost as innocent as Radar, and he's managed to hold onto tiny bits of that even through this hellhole. I don't know how he does it, but I can't put one more problem onto him or let him know that his only threat isn't the North Koreans. I want to get him back to his wife and kid in one piece."

Sidney looked suitably impressed. "I'd never quite thought of it that way. But how do you think he'd feel if he found out you'd been keeping something like this from him?"

"It doesn't matter, because he's never going to find out."

"I can't force you to tell him, Hawkeye."

"That's right, you can't."

"You're not going to give an inch on this, are you?"

"Nope."

"Then I think arguing is useless."

"I'd hoped you'd see it my way."

"Listen, Hawkeye, I have to leave soon. You take care of yourself, understand?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Sidney."

xxxxxxxxx

"Come in!" Margaret wondered who was knocking this time. It couldn't be Hawkeye, his knock just - sounded different somehow.

"Hello, Major. I wondered if I might have a word."

"Sidney! Please, come in."

"It's about our friend Captain Pierce."

"What about him? He and Hunnicutt didn't pull some sort of prank, did they?" She saw that the front of his coat was wet. "Don't tell me. Water balloons?"

"No," he said, apparently nonplussed. "What makes you say that?"

"The front of your coat is all wet."

"Oh." He glanced down, seeming to notice for the first time. "I'm afraid this is a little more serious. I've just been talking with Hawkeye. He was telling me about his last vacation."

The look in Margaret's eyes told Sidney that she knew exactly what he meant. "How is he?"

"It took him a good couple of minutes before he could tell me what happened, and then he cried for about five minutes after that. Margaret let me be - well, I don't think you'd appreciate it if I used the usual turn of phrase," this got a laugh from her, "so let me just say what I'm thinking. Hawkeye will eventually heal from this. If he's lucky, he may go back to the Hawkeye we all know and love. But he'll never be quite the same person he once was. He'll have scars from this for the rest of his life. No one can prevent that. The only thing we can control is how deep and significant these scars are. Hawkeye came to you, he trusted you in a way he hasn't trusted anyone else in this camp. I can't stay here to help him. I need you to do it for me."

"I will, Sidney."

"Thank you. Margaret - there's one more thing."

"What?"

"Well, we had a small misunderstanding, and I'm afraid I hurt him badly without meaning to. Just - check on him, will you?"

"Of course."

xxxxxxxxx

"Sidney told me there was an incident earlier today." Margaret's voice was low so that only he could hear her over the music and background chatter in the Officers' Club.

"What did he tell you?" Hawkeye mumbled back.

"Nothing specific. Just that he thought he'd hurt you and I ought to check in."

"Can we take this somewhere less public?"

"Of course." She watched in concern as Hawkeye got to his feet and immediately stumbled. "How much have you had?"

"I lost count."

"Of course." She took his arm and led him to her tent, helping him slump onto her bunk. "Come on. What did he do?"

"Well, I told him."

"Yeah, he told me."

"He, uh," Hawkeye took a deep breath, "he thought I was joking."

"_What_?"

"Just for a second, he thought it was all some elaborate joke. He figured it out fast enough, but that moment where he wasn't taking me seriously - it hurt more than I can explain."

"Oh, Hawkeye." She let him cuddle up against her. "I can't believe he'd -"

"It's my fault, really," he mumbled miserably.

"What are you talking about?"

"Margaret, say Klinger really did go crazy tomorrow. Would anyone believe him?"

"No, but -"

"I joke about bad things happening to me. I go through routines and then end them with a punchline. Who's going to believe me when I end one of those monologues with something that isn't a joke but sounds as far-fetched as one?"

"I believe you. And so did Sidney, it just took him a second. Hawkeye, everyone in this camp knows you don't joke around when it's really important. And anyway, I didn't think you were planning on telling anyone."

"I wasn't. I just hate the thought that if I ever do, or someone somehow finds out by accident, their first thought could be that I'm _joking_."

"It won't happen. If it comes down to it, I'll tell them. I saw the bruises, I know what happened."

"Thank you, Margaret."

"Feeling better?"

"A little. I just wish it could all be over, but it can't. It won't ever be, will it?"

"Not entirely," she admitted. "But you'll get to a point where it's not the first thing you think about when you wake up in the morning. It'll be in the back of your mind, always there but not always looming. I wish I could tell you something more encouraging, but I'm not going to lie to you."

"I appreciate that."

**Just to place this - this chapter takes place immediately after _Hawk's Nightmare_. The previous chapters are set somewhere in before that episode but after _The Colonel's Horse_.**

**Please note that while I intend to continue updating regularly, you're being spoiled by my winter break. Daily updates are unlikely to be the norm.**

**I know some of you might not see Sidney's reaction as plausible, but I see it as a mix of Hawkeye's personality (a "boy who cried wolf" type thing) and Sidney not _wanting_ to believe what he's just heard.**

**Please review.**


	5. Chapter Five: Fork In The Road

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Five: Fork In The Road**_

"Hawkeye, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, Father." He might be an agnostic, but he enjoyed the man's company, if not his religious advice. Mulcahy had ended up as a sort of _de facto_ counselor-type figure for the camp anyway, and people regularly went to him with problems, religious and otherwise.

"Well, it's just - you've been acting strangely the past few weeks. I was wondering, is there something bothering you?"

_Plenty, but you don't need to hear about it. _"Strange how?"

"Well, you've been quieter, for one thing. For another, no matter how much you complain about the food, you usually eat most or all of it. You've hardly been eating a thing. And then there was the incident in the OR."

"Father, that was once."

"But it's not normal for you, Hawkeye. I was just wondering if there was something wrong, and if there's anything I can do."

"Father, I appreciate your concern, but it's a personal matter, and I'll handle it by myself."

"If you change your mind -"

"Yeah, I know where to find you."

The rest of the meal was spent in silence.

xxxxxxxxx

"What's the matter?"

"Father Mulcahy now. He noticed I'm acting strange and wanted to know if there was anything he could do."

"What's the problem? You tell him it's personal, he'll back off. Him especially."

"It's not that. I'm trying to move past this, but every time someone brings it up, they bring the memories with it, and it's like I'm back in that dark hut, like I was after they finished, lying on the floor too petrified to move, even to put my clothes back on. Or in the hotel that first night, lying on the most comfortable bed I've been on in a long time and wide awake because the memories come crashing down the second I close my eyes."

"Oh, Hawkeye." She hugged him tight. "You didn't tell me - I mean, I knew it was bad, but -"

"I don't know how long I was lying there." He recognized her stammered response as an invitation to talk. "It felt like hours, but I was paralyzed. I was so afraid - I don't even know what I was afraid _of_, but I was afraid. When I finally forced myself to get up and get dressed, I walked back to my hotel - it was two miles, but I couldn't make myself talk enough to hail a cab. It was the longest walk of my life. Every time anyone even came close to me it felt like my heart would stop. I finally got back to my room, went into the bathroom, and threw up what felt like everything I'd ever eaten. I took a shower in the hottest water I could stand, but I just couldn't get _it_ off me. I scrubbed until it hurt and I still didn't feel clean. Then I tried to sleep, but every time I dropped off, the memories closed in around me. Spent the whole next day in bed. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, just kept reliving it over and over until I wanted to scream. I don't even know how I got from Tokyo to here without losing my mind. I've never been so glad to see casualties, I know it sounds rotten but at least it meant I could do something and pay attention to something that wasn't me. But then that was over, and I got back to the Swamp and I still couldn't sleep -"

"And that's when you came to find me."

"Yeah."

"I'm so sorry." She kissed his forehead and pulled him even closer, still burning with guilt over having turned him aside when he needed her. "God, Hawkeye, I had no idea."

"I went back to the swamp and tried to drink myself into oblivion, but I couldn't stand the feel of liquid in my mouth, so I just lay awake all night again. Did my shift and spent the whole rest of the day trying to avoid people, I didn't want to answer a bunch of questions, to say nothing of dealing with the likes of Frank. I tried to sleep but woke up screaming, BJ was in post-op but Frank was there and he was upset that I woke him up and he wouldn't stop shouting and I couldn't take it, I was afraid of _him_, yelling like that, and I didn't want him to see me cry but I couldn't hold it back anymore, so I left to go somewhere I could be alone. Except someone found me there too." His hands gently squeezed her back, and she knew he meant the supply shed where she'd stumbled across him. "I never did ask. What were you doing there?"

She couldn't help laughing lightly. "Actually, I was looking for my watch."

"Really?"

"Yes. Left it in there when I was doing inventory, can you believe it?"

"I can't tell you how glad I am you did."

She kissed his head again. "I'm glad I did too."

"As awful as these past few weeks have been, I think they would've been a whole lot worse without you."

She kissed his cheek, and he smiled slightly. "Well, if that's what I get for complimenting you, I'll have to come up with some more compliments."

"It'll only get you so far. I am an engaged woman."

"Yeah, I know." Was it his imagination, or did he feel a strange pang when she said that?

xxxxxxxxx

"So Lieutenant Colonel Wonderful is coming here?"

"Yes." She giggled. "And it's all thanks to Frank."

"That's great, but what do you need me for?"

"I just need you to do something for me - or rather, to _not_ do something."

"What?"

"Look, you and I know we're both just friends, but Donald doesn't know you like I do. I'm worried, if he finds out how close we are, he'll assume the worst."

"Insecure much?"

"It's hardly his fault. I'm here and he's there and - just don't let on, okay?"

"Let on what? That we're friends?"

"Yes! He wouldn't understand!"

"I'm not sure I understand."

"What don't you understand?"

"Why you throw me aside like I don't matter to you as soon as someone else comes around who might have a problem with me. I thought our friendship meant more to you than that."

"Don't say it like that."

"How would you like me to say it? Your friendship means everything to me, Margaret."

"Nothing's going to change."

"No, you're just going to pretend we hardly know each other every time Donald dearest comes by!

"That's not fair, Hawkeye."

"Takes one to know one." He stomped out of her tent without giving her time to answer.

xxxxxxxxx

"Why should I trust you two?"

"Because we're all you've got." Hawkeye met Margaret's eyes, trying to remind her silently of earlier days, days when they had trusted each other completely.

"Because we care," BJ added. Hawkeye gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. No matter how much she'd hurt him, he still cared.

They pulled Margaret into the chair and offered her a drink, listening to her complain about Donald. Hawkeye barely kept his anger contained. Didn't Donald know what a wonderful woman he had, how sweet and kind she was, and how much she cared about him?

Margaret emptied the vase of gin into Frank's things, but not before giving Hawkeye a sign that she wanted to talk to him.

"Wait - Margaret!" He knew she wouldn't wait, but it gave him an excuse to chase her. "What do you need?"

"I want to say thank you. For helping me out even after I was harsh with you last week. And I'm sorry for treating you like that."

"Margaret -" He wanted to forgive her, but a part of him couldn't help the resentment. "Margaret, I care a lot about you."

"But? I have a feeling there's a catch."

"What happens the next time Donald comes around? I can't keep going like this, Margaret."

"Can't you just accept a simple apology?"

"I'm trying -"

"This is what I get for trying to be nice!" she fumed. "If you can't accept my apology in the spirit it's offered - I rescind the offer!"

He watched her go, trying not to feel so hurt. Who needed a friend like that, anyway? But he couldn't help remembering the friendship they'd had. He longed for it.

**I know this one's a little short, but I really did need to break it off here to make the next chapter work.**

**As for the fight, it serves two purposes. One, I don't really think two strong personalities like theirs could occupy the same space without fighting once in a while. Secondly, by the middle of Season 6 it's clear they have problems, and this was the most probable explanation I could think of.**

**Please review.**


	6. Chapter Six: A Woman Sustained

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Six: A Woman Sustained**_

Hawkeye had to admit that, while he might have preferred to travel with a nurse of his choosing, traveling with Margaret was hardly the worst thing he could have imagined. At any rate, it would give him an excuse to be alone with her.

There had been a few moments over the six weeks since her marriage when things had seemed almost normal between them. They had gotten drunk together after she'd discovered her husband cheating and he'd been left behind by a woman he'd been prepared to spend the rest of his life with. But the next morning, she'd acted like nothing had happened at all.

With that in mind, he tucked a bottle of Japanese scotch into his medical bag.

xxxxxxxxx

"If you come over here for any reason during the night, announce yourself. I intend to swing this to kill."

Hawkeye knew she was terrified, but he didn't think she'd let him anywhere near her. They still hadn't really made up. "Good night."

He laid down, everything she'd just told him running through his mind. Donald was cheating _again_. He couldn't believe Margaret would stay with such a man. He didn't deserve her, and she didn't deserve to be treated this way -

A bang. A scream. Hawkeye realized he'd fallen asleep. He also realized they were being shelled, and it was Margaret doing the screaming. She was trying to say something, but it was so fast he couldn't make head or tail of it.

"Margaret, come here," he snapped, having managed to crawl towards the hysterical woman.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, slumping into his arms.. "I'm afraid."

"Me too. So am I." He pulled her tight.

"I don't like being afraid, it scares me."

"Me too," he assured her. "I'd be a lot braver if I wasn't so scared."

"Please hold me."

"I'm holding you." There was no harshness behind his words. He knew what it meant to be afraid.

"I can't feel it, hold me, hold me."

"Margaret, I'm holding you!" Another shell rocked the abandoned hut. "Will you cut it out? You want to kill us?"

His screams mixed with hers, and niether of them was sure who was screaming what. He pulled her even closer, and suddenly fell silent just as she did, painfully aware of how close together they were.

It was impossible to say who kissed who first, but they held each other tight, lips locked together. They drew apart and just as quickly came back together for another kiss.

He gently pressed her into the floor, ending up on top of her. Hands clutched at each other's clothing and began to remove it. He was lost in her, and she in him.

He was shirtless now, still pulling off her clothing. Her hands went to his belt and she unbuckled it and opened the fly. Suddenly he went rigid in her arms and gave a small squeak of terror.

"Oh, Hawkeye -" she stopped immediately, berating herself for not having thought of this. She should have known two and a half months wasn't enough time to really get over something like that. She _did _know. She just hadn't realized that this would be his first time since he'd been hurt.

"It's only me, Hawkeye," she said softly. "I won't hurt you, I promise. I won't hurt you. I just want to be with you."

"And I want to be with you." His voice was choked as his desire warred with his fear.

"We'll take it slow," she promised. "And if you want me to stop, just say so."

She gently took the waistband of his pants in her hands again and lowered them carefully. This time, he didn't hesitate.

xxxxxxxxx

"Thank you, Hank." She smiled.

"Thank you, Darlene." He smiled back.

"There's one other thing," she said hesitantly.

"What?"

"You said things weren't going to be any different between you and me. Well - I'd like them to be. I don't like the way things have been between us."

"Niether do I," he admitted.

"You were right when you said I wasn't being fair to you, asking you to change to make Donald happy. What you said about our friendship, what it meant - it touched me, Hawkeye. Really. Things could go back to the way they were before the hut - but I'd rather go back to the way they were six weeks ago, before this all started."

"I'd like that too."

She hugged him, and he relished it. He had missed her hugs, the caring they demonstrated.

"And I - I want to thank you again. I was so busy trying to pretend everything in the hut hadn't happened that I didn't get around to telling you how much it meant to me, the way you treated me when I was vulnerable and scared."

"I hadn't realized you hadn't - I mean, that it was your first time. I figured at least that Korean woman..."

"I loved her, I shared her bed, but no. We didn't. She wasn't pushy and I wasn't really ready. You were my first."

She looked deep into his eyes. "Thank you for trusting me."

"Thank you for taking care of me."

xxxxxxxxx

"Hawkeye, I have a - a confession to make."

"You want me to call the Father?"

Margaret laughed. "No, this one is strictly between you and me. I really should've told you this before, but I couldn't figure out how to say it, and I kind of figured you already knew anyway-"

"Margaret, will you stop talking in circles and tell me what you're trying to tell me?"

"When I thought I was pregnant, something else occurred to me. I told you I was with Donald about six weeks ago?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Remember what the Colonel asked me when I said I hadn't told Donald?"

"'Should you tell him?'" Hawkeye quoted, laughing softly. "Oh, don't tell me there was doubt."

"There was."

"Someone else?"

"You ought to know, you were there."

Hawkeye's jaw almost hit the floor. He stared, speechless, for a few seconds. "Margaret, are you trying to tell me..."

"It was just a thought. It doesn't matter now anyway."

"So what you're confessing is -"

"That I had this thought and didn't tell you. I mean, I figured you knew somewhere in the back of your mind -"

"Margaret, you sound like Radar. I understand what you're trying to say."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"If I had told you - what would you have done?"

"Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"What you would've wanted me to do."

"Donald is no Frank, Frank is no Donald..." she muttered to herself.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just thinking out loud."

"Want a drink?"

"Sure."

If anyone had been sitting right next to her at that moment, they might have heard her whisper, "They're both no Hawkeye."

"Have you ever considered having kids?" he asked as he sat on his cot.

"Not really, not until this latest incident."

"Why not?"

"As a child, it just never occurred to me. I wasn't exposed to 'girly' life the same way. Then I was raped, and the idea of - doing what would need to be done to conceive a child - was repulsive and terrifying."

"Margaret, I had no idea, you never told me -"

"That my first sexual experience was against my will?"

"I was going to put it more delicately." His abrupt comment was softened by the arm he slipped around her back.

"That's why I became Hot Lips, you know." She spoke her old nickname like it tasted bad. "After that - I felt like I was damaged goods. The good men would never go for a girl who was so tainted, so I should settle for whoever would take me - like Frank."

"And Donald."

She frowned but didn't deny it. "And then there's just being able to control things."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it seems to me that if a man wants something from me, he's going to take it no matter what, so I might as well give it freely and at least feel like I have some control."

"Margaret -" her matter-of-fact tone only made it more heartbreaking for him. "You shouldn't have to feel like that. You're no more 'damaged goods' than any woman, and as for the other part - a real man would never do anything you didn't want them to." He caressed her cheek. "You don't have to give anyone anything."

"Oh, Hawkeye -" He cut her off with a hug.

"What about you?" she asked, muffled against his chest.

"What about me what?"

"Have you ever thought about having kids?"

He shrugged. "I guess I've always assumed I would someday. I may be biased, but there isn't a better place for a kid to grow up than Crabapple Cove."

"If we had had a kid - would you have been there for him or her?"

"For the baby and for you. Every step of the way."

"You mean that?"

"I'm a lot of things, Margaret, but one thing I'm not is a father who walks out on his own kid."

**Sorry again for another short chapter, but this story's about to head in an unforeseen direction and I want to start that in a new chapter.**

**Just realized I forgot to give credit in the last chapter, so there were a couple of lines of dialogue from _Fade Out, Fade In_, as well as a reference to _Margaret's Marriage_. For this chapter, there are quotes from _Comrades in Arms _as well as a reference to _What's Up, Doc?_**

**Really sorry about posting the wrong chapter. What actually happened was I uploaded the right chapter, made an edit to the original document, and then went to upload the edited document.  
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**I owe credit for the "give it because they'll take it anyway" concept to Mamabella and her review on this story's prequel.  
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**Please review.**


	7. Chapter Seven: The End of Donald

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Seven: The End of Donald**_

"I have never in my entire life," Charles declared, "seen someone return from a vacation acting like they've just been to a funeral."

"Much as I hate to agree with you, I think you're right. No, wait. Once."

Hawkeye ignored BJ's sharp glance, knowing full well that BJ was talking about the trip to Tokyo he'd taken now a full three months earlier. "Maybe she's just tired." He found that possibility as likely as he knew they did, but he knew how uncomfortable it was to have everyone speculating about your behavior.

"Pierce, are we looking at the same woman? Tired or not, I have never seen Margaret Houlihan behave this way."

"Either way, speculation won't answer any questions." Potter sat down across from the doctors. "If you're that concerned, ask her. Otherwise, her mood is her business."

It was only his inspection of what passed for food on this particular day that made him miss the grateful look Hawkeye shot him.

xxxxxxxxx

Margaret jumped a yard when someone knocked on the door. "Whoever it is, go away," she snapped crossly. "I'm busy."

"Margaret?"

She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but that wasn't it. "Except you," she admitted. She couldn't help it, she wanted to see him. "Come on in."

"Margaret, is something bothering you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Come _on_, Margaret. Anyone who knows you knows you're not acting like yourself. Is it Donald?"

"Sort of."

"Come on. You can tell me."

"Well, Donald and I went out to a party on the base. A lot of his friends were there. About an hour in, he tells me there's someone he wants me to meet, and he drags me up and introduces me to Major James Bolton."

The way she said the name made Hawkeye sure he'd found the crux of the matter. "And if I may be so bold - who's Major Bolton?"

"Major Bolton used to be Lieutenant Bolton. And Lieutenant Bolton was the leader of the three men who grabbed me off the street at Fort Bliss when I was seventeen."

"Margaret -" he looked completely shocked. "Did he - did he remember you?"

She nodded, and he saw tears welling up in her eyes. "As soon as Donald was out of earshot, he grabbed my arm and called me a slut. Asked if Donald knew what we'd had together. I told him we hadn't had anything and he pinned me to the wall by my shoulders. I was so petrified I couldn't even try to fight him. He told me it was lucky I was 'Penobscott's girl' or he'd teach me a lesson about talking back to him and remind me just how much we'd had together. He spent the rest of the night finding excuses to touch me, brushing against my shoulder, even pinching my bottom. I begged Donald to leave, but he refused."

"Did you tell him?"

"I couldn't, not with Bolton right there. Couldn't get the words out. Then he asked Donald for a dance with me, and Donald accepted _for _me, if you can believe that." Hawkeye kept his thoughts on this particular matter silent. "He spent the entire dance fondling me and whispering things I can't repeat into my ear. When that was over, I told Donald I was leaving with or without him and went back to the hotel."

"Good for you." He sat down on Margaret's bed and took her into his lap. She was trembling.

"That's what I thought at first. But Donald came storming in once the party was over and yelled at me for embarrassing him. I tried to tell him, I thought his jealousy might actually work in my favor for once."

"What happened?"

"What I should have expected would happen. Instead of getting mad at Bolton, he got mad at me. Picked up the same line as everyone did when I was seventeen, that I asked for it. He told me I needed to make it up to him for being such a whore." Hawkeye could feel her shoulders shaking as she fought not to cry. "The last thing I wanted to do was sleep with him, and I told him so. He got really mad then, said I'd sleep with anyone but him, wouldn't I, and then said a man had a right to expect sex from his wife. I said no, and he said we could talk about it, and offered me a drink. It all gets fuzzy after that, but I woke up the next morning to find that I was sore, and he'd clearly violated me while I was unconscious." As those final words left her, she couldn't hold back her tears anymore and she buried her face in the collar of his blue Hawaiian shirt.

His fingers ran through her blond hair and he began to rock her. "Margaret, did you tell anyone?"

"Why would I?"

"He raped you!"

"I wouldn't call it that exactly."

"What the hell do you mean?" How could she say that everything she'd told him didn't add up to a rape?

"He's my husband, Hawkeye," she sobbed. "And anyway, it wasn't like he really forced me."

"Margaret." He sighed and gently took her chin in his hand, tilting her head up until their eyes met. "Margaret, the only reason he didn't force you was because you were already incapacitated and couldn't fight him. You said no, he drugged you and did it anyway. Husband or no, that's rape, Margaret."

She gave a soft wail and buried her face back in his shirt. "That's what I thought at first, but Donald said -"

"Donald's covering his own ass, he's not going to give you a fair assessment of the situation."

"Maybe he didn't realize - I don't want to get him in trouble over a misunderstanding."

"Margaret, why are you protecting him?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I just don't want to believe I could've screwed up so badly, that I could've been taken in by a phony for so long. Hawkeye, please, don't make me -"

"Shh, I'm not going to make you do anything. Come here, come here." He pulled her even closer.

"Hold me, Hawkeye. Just keep holding me. Don't let go."

"I won't," he promised. "I've got you, Major baby." He'd called her that once a long time ago, before they were friends, as something barely short of an insult. Now it slipped from his lips as a sort of pet name, a term to show her how much he cared about her.

She apparently noticed too. A tiny smile flickered on her tear-streaked face, but was quickly replaced by pain.

"Shh, let it out." His own eyes were full of straining tears. "I'm here for you. Just let go."

She started to cry in earnest, which broke down his resistance, and he buried his face in her hair and cried for her. _Can't she catch a tiny break? Just once?_

He noticed that she hung oddly in his arms and looked down at her. She was fast asleep against his chest.

Gently, he slipped off her boots and her jacket, and then hesitated. He knew she hated sleeping in her clothes, but he wasn't sure how she'd react to being undressed while she was asleep, especially under the circumstances. In the end, he turned her onto her stomach to protect her modesty and switched her uniform pants for pajama bottoms, while leaving her shirt on.

His own outer garments came off too, leaving him in his shirt and boxers. Margaret had held him for five nights straight after his ordeal. He could stay with her tonight.

xxxxxxxxx

For the second time in five days, Margaret wasn't sure how she'd ended up in her current situation. The last thing she remembered was crying to Hawkeye about Donald, begging to be held and comforted. Now she was short her jacket and boots, wearing pajama pants she didn't remember putting on, and held against someone's olive-drab clad chest by a firm arm around her waist and back. Worse yet, she appeared to have wrapped herself around him in her sleep.

She pulled back abruptly, and the figure next to her stirred sleepily. "You OK, Margaret?"

She relaxed immediately. _Hawkeye_. She should have known. "How did I end up here?"

"You cried yourself to sleep. I put you to bed."

"And put yourself to bed with me."

"I thought you'd want me here. If I was wrong -"

"No, it's all right. I like having you here." Why was it she liked having him there more than she ever had her own husband, even before this latest incident? "God, I'm so confused right now."

"Why?"

"If I can't trust the man I married, who can I trust?"

"You want me to name ten people?"

She couldn't resist a small smile. "You're on."

"Okay. If I may be so bold, I'm one."

"You may."

"BJ is two, Potter three, Radar, Klinger, Father Mulcahy, Able, Baker, Kellye, and when he's around Sidney."

"That's ten," she admitted with a shy smile.

"It is indeed."

"I notice you didn't mention Winchester."

"I know. I'm not sure about him yet."

"I don't know what I'm going to do."

"I can't answer that for you."

"Lot of help you are."

"But I can make you a promise. Whatever you do, whatever happens, I'm here for you. If that means anything."

"It means everything. Thank you."

xxxxxxxxx

"Hawkeye, tell me the truth. How do you feel about this?"

"What I feel isn't important right now, Margaret. It's what you feel that counts."

"I've always valued your opinion. I just need to know - am I doing the right thing?"

"You want me to tell you what I really think?"

"Of course."

"Margaret, if you didn't look so sad, I'd be congratulating you on getting the divorce instead of sympathizing. I've spent the past three months watching him break you down bit by bit. He hurts you and you give him one more chance, and one more. He takes your money and probably spends it on other women. He _rapes_ you and then asks for another chance. You don't deserve to be treated this way, you never did. You're too good for him. The only problem with this decision is that you didn't make it earlier."

"I'm scared, Hawkeye. I've put so much of myself into this relationship, and now I'm about to sever it. What am I going to do?"

"You're going to let me help you."

"That I can do."

xxxxxxxxx

"Hunnicutt - BJ. Don't take this the wrong way, but at this moment I'm extremely jealous of your wife."

BJ laughed. "Is that so?"

"I said don't take it the wrong way!"

"Margaret, I'm no saint. Remember Carrie Donovan?"

"For God's sake, Beej, that was once," Hawkeye piped up from his cot, "and you were bogged down with guilt for a week."

"You're here, and she's there, thousands of miles away, and she can be sure you're all hers. Same with Mrs. Potter, even Henry, may he rest in peace, never strayed that far. And even Trapper still cared about his wife."

"_Trapper_?" BJ repeated in shock. "Forgive me, but the Trapper Hawkeye told me about had a longer list of nurses than a stateside hospital."

"He almost went AWOL trying to get back to her and their kids." She took a long drink.

"Margaret, don't you think you've had enough?"

"Not even close." She took another. "Anyway, I'm sure he always asked first."

"Margaret -" Hawkeye began warningly. He knew the amount of alcohol in her system was loosening her tongue, and he also realized that what she was about to say wasn't necessarily something she might want BJ to hear.

"Before he cheated?" He was now even more baffled. "Margaret, no one asks their wife before they cheat."

"I bet he went home to his wife, and they had a night together, and he _asked_, she did it willingly, he didn't just offer her a drink and -" Overwrought and with her emotions running high from the alcohol, she burst into tears.

"Margaret?" Confusion and concern flooded him. "Margaret, what is it?"

She shook her head and kept crying, burying her face in her hands. Hawkeye pulled himself to his feet and took her in his arms. "Shh, baby, it's all over now. I've got you, Margaret. I'm right here." He lowered both of them onto his cot, sliding her into his lap.

BJ sat down next to him, one hand reaching out to rub the distressed woman's back. "What's wrong? Tell us."

"Donald," she sobbed.

"He was no good, Margaret. You're lucky to be rid of him."

"I know that!" Anger flared through her pain. "What decent man would slip a drug in his wife's drink so he could have his way with her?" She was overcome by a fresh flood of tears and buried her face in Hawkeye's neck.

BJ's hand on her back stilled, his blue eyes going wide. "Oh, God, Margaret. When?"

"Last month," she choked out. "When we were in Tokyo."

"And you were going to - to go _talk_ to him? Are you -"

"Beej." Hawkeye moved one hand to cover the one BJ still had on Margaret's back. "Don't."

"You're right. I'm sorry, Margaret." He started rubbing her back again. "I just can't believe - I wish we'd done more than put him in a cast when we had the chance," he said fiercely.

"Amen," Hawkeye said softly.

She said nothing, just cried harder. Both doctors watched, trying to comfort her, heartbroken that there was nothing they could do to make it better.

"She's asleep," BJ said softly after a few minutes. His own eyes were suspiciously bright.

"Lucky we left the extra cot in here the last time Sidney visited."

"Wasn't that two months ago?"

"Yeah, so what?" He lifted her into her arms and brought her over to the vacant cot. "She'll kill me for letting her sleep in her clothes." He drew the blanket up over her.

"How would you know?"

_Damn._ He hadn't meant to give away how well he knew her. "Well, it's just not military."

"Oh, come on. You weren't surprised when she told us - you knew, didn't you?"

"Yeah," he admitted softly.

"And you didn't say anything? To _anyone_?"

"Beej, keep your voice down. I want to let her sleep."

"You're avoiding the issue." To his credit, BJ's voice was significantly softer now.

"She didn't want it known. She was confused and scared and humiliated, I wasn't going to make an issue out of it. It's a serious problem, Beej, but it's _her_ problem." He cast a gentle look down on her. "Forcing her to answer a bunch of questions isn't going to make this any better or easier for her."

"Ah, I know. It just bothers me is all."

"I'd be worried if it didn't."

"You don't understand." He sighed, sinking onto his cot. "In about fourteen years, my little girl's going to be old enough to start dating. I can't stand the thought that something like that might happen to her. It's a rotten world when a woman can't trust the man she loves."

"Yeah." He ran a soft hand through her hair. "It really sucks."

xxxxxxxxx

"Now what's he done?"

"How - I haven't said anything yet!"

"It's the way you're acting."

"For the last few months, I've been sending him all my paychecks. Now he won't give me any of that money, and we don't get paid for another three weeks! I earned that money - I need that money." Her voice dropped to a dejected whisper. "I don't know what to do."

"Hey, Margaret." He took her shoulder in his hand. "Margaret, it's all right."

"It's not all right! What am I supposed to do?"

He plunged his free hand into his pocket. "Here. Can you get by on two hundred?"

"Hawkeye -" She stared at the bills he'd just shoved into her hand. "I can't accept this."

"So pay me back when you get paid."

"No. I can't." She tried to hand it back to him.

"Margaret, don't be ashamed because you need help. Come on, take it."

"You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"

"What's it look like?"

"Well then - thank you. And I will pay you back. I promise."

**No, this isn't the new direction this story's going in. I was doing some rewrites and decided to set that bit in late Season 7 (more specifically, after a particular episode in later Season 7), which means any more Donald storylines had to happen first.**

**A lot of what happened with Margaret and Donald reflects the attitude of the times and since. At the time (and still in some places) there is no such thing as marital rape, as marriage was presumed to be automatic consent. And it took until earlier this month for the FBI to update their definition of rape to include rape by use of intoxicants.**

**Please review. I'm blaming the low review count on my last installment on the uploading snafu, I'm just hoping that's not the norm.**


	8. Chapter Eight: Deadly Detour

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**_**Chapter Eight: Deadly Detour**_**_

"What's going on, Colonel?" Hawkeye asked. Surgeon staff meetings usually didn't bode well.

"Don't worry, no one's in trouble. Remember Starks?"

"Who?" BJ asked.

"Yeah, I do," Hawkeye piped in. "Came in here half dead about two weeks ago. I pretty much had to put him back together."

"Well, the 121st was impressed. Impressed enough to ask for a demonstration of the surgical techniques used to save him. Since he was your patient, Pierce, I think you've just volunteered."

Hawkeye groaned good-naturedly. "I don't suppose I could volunteer someone else?"

"Nope. You'll need to take a nurse, too." BJ laughed when Hawkeye perked up noticeably at the Colonel's words. "Who assisted you?"

"There were three or four, I think. It was a pretty serious job."

"I'll ask. I'd like you to take one of them, someone who knows what you did."

"Understood, Colonel."

xxxxxxxxx

A knock on the door pulled Hawkeye out of the book he was reading. "Come in?" He wasn't adverse to the idea of a visit, but most people just barged right into the Swamp without knocking.

Except for the blond Major who stepped through the door.

"Oh, it's you. What do you need?"

"I want you to know I volunteered to accompany you to the 121st."

"You?"

"I was the main nurse on the job. Anyway, it'll be nice to get out of here for awhile. Too many reminders of you-know-who keep popping up in my tent."

"Okay, fine. You can come on one condition."

"What?"

"I happen to know that four days from today is the anniversary of your divorce. We'll be at the 121st then, so I want you to join me in a celebratory drink."

She smiled. "I accept your condition."

xxxxxxxxx

"Why is it always us?" Hawkeye grumbled.

"What do you mean 'always'?" Margaret asked. "Everyone does these missions."

"First it was the Aid Station. Then it was the bug-out."

"We didn't go anywhere that time," she pointed out, completely straight-faced, but Hawkeye caught the glint in her eye.

"True. We stayed right where we were. It was the rest of the camp that went." He grinned, and she smiled back. "Then there was the 8063, and now this. And that doesn't even count last month's incident with the cave, which I left out because we volunteered. Not to mention I was the one who had to leave on that officer exchange program."

"You think that was bad? We had to put up with your replacement!"

"At least this time we're heading _away_ from the fighting. And at least you volunteered yourself."

"Well, you _are_ the best doctor in the unit."

"If you're trying to flatter me," his stern expression gave way to a grin, "you've succeeded."

"Just think of it! A real hospital to work in."

"Think of it? I've thought of nothing else since we left!"

xxxxxxxxx

"Hey, Pierce."

"Hey yourself." The young doctor wouldn't have lasted a day at a MASH unit, but in the safe environment of the Evac hospital, he could safely like the man. "What's up?"

"I was wondering about your nurse."

"My nurse? Oh, you mean Margaret."

"Yeah. Is she, you know, single?"

"Single, yes. But you're really asking if she's available, aren't you?"

He scoffed. "What's the difference?"

"Well, she's recently divorced. I'm not sure she's, you know, up for it."

"Oh, come on."

"I'm serious!"

"You must not get around much." He smirked.

"I resent that implication. My reputation as the ladies' man of the 4077th is well established."

"Seriously? You must be a slow learner, then. Let me tell you something. If she's divorced, she'll be lonelier than ever. She may be a major, but she'll be a whore underneath. They all are."

The next thing the doctor knew, he was up against the wall with the black-haired man's hand against his chest. "Let me tell _you_ something. You may have been brought up to believe that women don't deserve respect, but that woman is one of the finest people I have ever met. And let me tell you something else. You may be able to get into a bed with that attitude, but that's the farthest you'll ever go." He finally released the man. "And keep your haughty attitude away from Margaret."

xxxxxxxxx

"Pierce!"

"What? What?" He woke blearily.

"What the hell is going on with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled.

"Doctor Whitman claims you assaulted him!"

"What?" He sat up slowly. "That younger doctor who was hanging around?"

"Yes. And you'd better have a damn good reason for it too!"

"Believe me, I do."

"I'm waiting."

"Please, Margaret. Becoming irate with me after I defended your honor?"

"What?" Some of her annoyance gave way to genuine curiosity. As Hawkeye detailed what had happened, she felt herself melting more and more.

"God, Hawkeye, I just can't stay mad at you."

"You know it." He grinned. "Now if you don't mind, I was in the middle of a great dream. Mind if I get back to it?"

"I'll see you later. And I'm sorry I woke you."

xxxxxxxxx

"To Margaret Houlihan, who is once again just plain Margaret Houlihan."

She raised her glass to meet his and took a sip. "And to Hawkeye Pierce, who's been the best friend anyone could have asked for through all this."

He raised his glass again and took another sip quickly, trying to hide how much her words had meant to him. "I was only returning the favor."

"The favor I did you by returning your favor? No, I owe you one."

"I say we're even. Anyway, what does it really matter?"

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter who owes who what. You know as well as I do that I'll always be there when you need me, and you'll be there when I need you, regardless of what our score is."

She smiled. "I'll drink to that."

xxxxxxxxx

"Well, that demonstration went better than the last one."

"You mean the one where we were so angry at each other we were turning shop talk into one big argument?"

She couldn't help laughing. "Yeah, that one."

"I don't see how it could've been worse."

"No, I suppose not."

The jeep lurched and Hawkeye sighed, pulling over. "Stupid flat tire." He stepped out of the jeep

"Hawkeye, are you any better at flat tires than engine trouble?"

He laughed. "Haven't I ever told you about BJ's first day in Korea?"

"No." She climbed out to help him. "All I know is we had high hopes for him. A brand-new doctor fresh out of residency, we thought we could mold him in our image." She laughed. "I'm glad now that we didn't. But he showed up covered in mud and completely blasted, called Frank "Ferret Face" and passed out in my arms. Not to mention the jeep incident. Tell me, what exactly happened?"

"Well, I suppose I can start at the beginning." He got the jack under the front of the olive drab vehicle. "Well, after I left the office, I talked Radar into bringing me to Kimpo with him so I could say goodbye to Trapper. Got there ten minutes too late."

"I'm sorry. I know you two were close."

"Thanks." He smiled at her. "Well, Radar shows up with a twenty-eight year old naive doctor. That was about when we realized our jeep was gone. So we decided to go into the officers' club for a drink."

"You just left Radar outside?"

"Of course not. I borrowed one of BJ's rank pins and put it on his hat. Fed anyone who asked a ridiculous story about a 'Corporal Captain'. New rank in trial stages, I think it was. Anyway, just as we were leaving this general pulls up in a jeep of his own. I'll admit it wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done, but Radar was a mess about running late and losing the jeep. We came across a Korean family, two girls checking for land mines. As I recall, I mixed up my Korean and called someone an umbrella."

"An _umbrella_?"

"Yeah, well what can you do? Right about then a mine blew up, and Radar ran into the minefield to rescue the girl. We got her to a hospital, then headed back for camp. On our way there, we blew a tire. Margaret, can you try to take off the spare? As we were fixing it, we came under sniper fire. And once we were clear of that, we joined up with a group of infantrymen and ended up in the firing range for some mortars. A couple people seriously hurt. We only had one medical bag, so we were running it back and forth - that's how BJ got covered in mud, trying to run the bag over to me. Get me the spare, would you? Well, there was one guy dead, beyond saving. I tried to warn him but he insisted on looking for himself. Then he got sick."

"I can imagine. Rough first day."

"Well, that's why we stopped at Rosie's on the way back."

"And that's why he was so drunk he couldn't stand up?"

"Yep, pretty much. Okay, that should do it." He stood back up and froze.

"What?"

He nudged Margaret's arm and pointed to the thing he hadn't been able to see while down on his knees.

"Oh, my God," she whispered.

About ten North Korean soldiers had spotted them. And they were headed right that way.

xxxxxxxxx

"Radar -"

"I'm calling the 121st to check up on Hawkeye and Margaret."

"Call the -" He sighed. "Thank you, Radar."

"Got them, sir."

Potter put the phone to his ear. "Hello? This is Colonel Sherman Potter. I sent two of my surgeons your way. They did? That's wonderful. He did? Well, don't worry, I'll look into it. Listen, are they still there? Uh-huh. When did they leave? I see. Yes, I know that. Thank you. Goodbye."

"Ra-" His clerk was already walking through the door. "According to the 121st, Pierce and Houlihan left four hours ago."

"They should've been back a long time ago!"

"I know that. Radar, get on the horn, tell the MPs to keep an eye out for them."

"I'll get on the horn and tell the MPs to keep an eye out for Captain Pierce and Major Houlihan," the younger man said at almost the same moment.

"Dismissed."

xxxxxxxxx

Margaret woke groggily, trying to figure out where she was. Basic survival had taught her that if she found herself in an unfamiliar situation, she should think back to the last thing she could remember. She remembered the flat tire on the jeep, pulling over to fix it, talking and laughing with Hawkeye, then him standing up. The North Koreans!

Memory flooded back. They'd been surrounded as soon as the soldiers realized they'd been seen. She'd tried to take cover in case they fired and managed to knock herself out on the corner of the jeep for her trouble. _Nice one, Houlihan_.

"Margaret?"

"Hawkeye? What happened?"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, and you're avoiding the question." She looked around, taking stock of her settings. A dark room, no windows - "They captured us, didn't they?"

"Yeah." Hawkeye's soft answer seemed to echo through the empty room. Squinting, she could barely make him out as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

"Where -"

"I don't know. I was blindfolded. Margaret, are you hurt? You were unconscious."

"I - uh, knocked myself out on the jeep trying to get down."

"Come here, I want to have a look at it, so to speak."

She crawled towards him and he scooted towards her until they met somewhere in the middle. "Where did you hit your head?"

She took his and and guided it to the spot. "Well, there's no exterior swelling and I can't feel a skull fracture. You may have a minor concussion, but if you can remember how you hit your head it can't be that serious."

As he pulled his hand back, she realized it was shaking slightly. "Hawkeye, are you okay? Your hands are shaking."

She could just see well enough to notice him turning his head to look at the door. "Locked. No windows. Want to know how big this cell is? About eight steps by ten."

He was ranting, but she understood. "Oh, God. I forgot." She knew from the incident in the cave that he was severely claustrophobic, but it had slipped her mind. "Come here. Just hang onto me."

Shaking arms wrapped around her waist. "See what I mean?"

"Huh?"

"We'll always be here for each other. No matter who owes who what."

She pulled him tight, almost as grateful to be close to him as he was to be close to her. She knew that she and Hawkeye would always be there for each other, but she also knew that that was no defense against a hostile enemy that held them helpless.

**This is the new direction of the story, as planned. This takes place sometime after _C*A*V*E_ (the reason I moved it later in the chronology than I originally planned to) but before _A Night at Rosie's_, as Margaret is still single.**

**Just to be clear: this story isn't going AU. It's supposed to be a filler (since the chronology of M*A*S*H is so wacky, it's not that hard to believe that even significant time could pass between episodes), an addendum if you will.**

**Please review!**


	9. Chapter Nine: Behind the Bolted Door

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Nine: Behind the Bolted Door  
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The door was open just long enough to shove through their meager rations of food and water. Margaret saw Hawkeye reaching for it and let him get it. She knew he just wanted to be near the open door f as long as it was available.

He pulled the items inside, and she could hear him fumbling in the dark. Then he slid a small cup and bowl to her. "There."

It wasn't much, just rice and stale water, but she gulped at both items. It had been hours - how many was impossible to say - since they'd been captured, and she was incredibly hungry and thirsty.

"That's a little better," she said once she'd finished.

He said nothing. She crawled over to him and slid her arm around him. He was trembling again, that tiny taste of openness having only made it worse once the room was sealed. His hands found purchase in her jacket and he clung to her.

"Shh, shh." She rocked him gently. "Don't worry. There's plenty of air, the walls aren't going to collapse. There's nothing in here that can hurt you."

They both knew what she wasn't saying. There were plenty of things just outside that room that could.

xxxxxxxxx

"Colonel? Colonel?"

"What is it, Radar?" He turned on the light and fumbled for his glasses.

"MPs on the phone, sir. It's about Captain Pierce and Major Houlihan."

"What did they say?" He pulled his robe on, instantly wide awake.

"They wouldn't tell me anything. Insisted on speaking directly to you."

"All right, all right." He followed Radar into the office. "Hello? Hello? This is Colonel Potter! What have you - oh, I see. Yes. I understand. I'll be waiting. Thanks."

He hung up the phone. "Radar, go wake up Winchester and grab Hunnicutt out of post-op. Tell them to meet me in here, on the double."

"Yes, sir."

It was a still half-asleep Winchester and a thoroughly concerned Hunnicutt who stumbled it.

"What is it, Colonel?" the young doctor's face was creased with worry.

"Sit down, boys. You too, Radar." He waited for them to oblige before continuing. "I just got off the phone with the MPs. I'm afraid it's not good." He drew a deep breath before continuing. "They haven't found Pierce or Houlihan. But they found the jeep, and both sets of dog tags under one of the seats."

"What does that mean?" Hunnicutt asked in a stunned whisper.

Radar screwed his eyes shut against his tears before responding. "A lot of times, people about to be taken prisoner will get rid of identifying information so that the enemy doesn't know who they are. Especially if they're officers."

The silence was so absolute they could have heard a pin drop. For several seconds, it hung in the air, broken only when Hunnicutt grabbed a glass from the Colonel's desk and threw it at the wall.

It shattered into countless pieces, mirroring the way his own heart felt. He picked up another glass and threw this one too, with the same result. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the Colonel's desk and swung it back, but something stopped his hand.

"Hunnicutt." Potter's voice was firm but gentle. "Hunnicutt, put it down."

The rage flowed out of his body, and he allowed Potter to take the bottle out of his hand. "Oh, God. Oh, God." He sank into a chair and began to cry. "Hawk, no, no," he whimpered, sobbing for the man who had become his brother. "_Hawkeye_."

He felt Potter's hand on his shoulder, but nothing was said, and BJ knew why. There wasn't a thing anyone could say that would make this hellish situation any better.

"I don't see why we're all assuming the worst." Winchester's soft voice drew everyone's attention to him. "The last time those two went missing we assumed the worst, and they turned up in one piece a few days later."

"Last time, there wasn't strong evidence they'd been captured!" BJ was still sobbing, leaning into the Colonel's hand, which was almost white-knuckled from the grip on his shoulder.

The old man knew how hard it was for his young doctor. He'd seen from day one that the two surgeons were inseparable. He'd had buddies of his own that he'd shared that relationship with, several of whom had died in one war or another, and he knew the hell Hunnicutt had to be going through.

"I've got the MPs out trying to find them, but I don't know how much good that'll do. And before you ask, Hunnicutt, no, you are not going out to look for them yourself. You already tried that stunt once and got lucky, but we can't be caught short a surgeon if wounded come in."

He felt the dejected slump of BJ's shoulders and gently patted him on the back. "Why don't you go back to the Swamp. I'll finish your shift for you."

"Colonel -"

"Look, son." _Son_ indeed, the man sounded like a worried father. "I know this hurts like hell. Go back to the Swamp, try to get some sleep, have a drink, you look like you need one. If necessary, that's an order."

He nodded numbly and stumbled towards the Swamp, towards the still which promised the longed-for oblivion. Potter watched him go sadly.

"Keep an eye on him, Winchester. In his state, there's no telling what he'll do."

"You don't think he'd -"

"If you mean hurt himself, no. But," he added, glancing at the pile of shards, "I can't say the same for property damage."

xxxxxxxxx

It wasn't the opening door itself that woke Margaret, but Hawkeye's reaction. Just as he had when food had been brought the day before - _or was it earlier today? I have no sense of time anymore_ - he crawled over to the door, desperate for even a taste of open air.

This time, though, the door opened all the way, and a soldier stepped in. "You." He pointed to Hawkeye. "You will come with me."

"Oh, I will? That's news to me."

_Hawkeye, don't provoke him_. But she couldn't say it out loud, not if the man could understand English.

The guard stepped closer to Hawkeye and grabbed him by the upper arm. "You will come with me."

"Well, when you put it that way..."

He was dragged out, and the door slammed shut again, leaving Margaret in the cell alone. And alone, she cried, cried with the fear of what would happen to herself and her gentle friend.

xxxxxxxxx

"How much did you drink last night?"

"Enough," BJ moaned, pulling the blanket over his face to block out the sun.

"You call waking up with what appears to be the hangover of a century 'enough'?"

"Enough to knock me out so I could get some sleep."

"I'm still shocked that you're giving up so easily. Where's that youthful optimism?"

"It's not that easy!" He sat suddenly upright. "You think I don't _want_ to believe they're alive? For God's sake, Hawkeye and I are closer than brothers. But there's not a damn thing I can do about it, and that's the worst part of it all."

xxxxxxxxx

Margaret sat with her hands over her ears, singing to herself to try and drown out the screams that echoed through the hall. She couldn't stand that awful sound. She was glad Hawkeye wasn't there to -

_Oh, God._

She crawled over to the bucket in the corner and vomited. Tears ran freely down her face as another agonized scream rang out.

The door slid open long enough for them to leave food and water, but hungry as she was she couldn't eat with her friend's cries ringing in her ears. It occurred to her that they'd already been by once to bring those same items. Unless they were a lot more generous than she'd heard, it had probably been days since he was removed from the cell. What hell had they been putting him through that whole time?

As her stomach settled, she forced the food down, only to have it come right back up. She reached for the water to rinse her mouth but stopped herself. She didn't know when she'd get more, and she wanted to make sure there was some for Hawkeye if he got back.

_When,_ she reminded herself. _When he gets back._

She didn't know how long it was before the screaming stopped, but she was grateful for it. The door swung open, and a figure was thrown through it.

He landed on the floor with a whimper he couldn't suppress, and she was instantly at his side. "Hawkeye? Hawkeye?"

He moaned and tried to roll over. "Margaret?"

"Shh, I've got you, don't try to move." He hissed in pain as she pulled him into her arms, but relaxed noticeably once he was there.

"Margaret..."

"Don't talk either." She was trying not to panic at the blood she could feel on his clothes. "Here, you thirsty? I've got some water for you."

She tipped the small cup to his lips, and he sucked at it greedily, draining every last drop from it. He was still thirsty, but it was better than it had been. He slumped into her arms, trying not to panic at once again being locked in the small room.

"What did they do to you?" she whispered.

"Asked me some questions," he gasped. He knew she'd pick up the implication. She did. He felt himself being rocked in her arms.

"Shh, just get some sleep. I've got you. Rest."

Her soft words lulled him into a sleep he'd been close to as it was. Blissful oblivion enveloped him as he allowed himself to pass out in her arms.

xxxxxxxxx

When the guards pulled Hawkeye out of Margaret's arms, there was no doubt in her mind as to where they were taking him. She clung to him as though it would help somehow, but they tore her from him and dropped her to the floor.

She curled in on herself. Bile rose in her throat as she realized she was covered in his blood. She crawled over to the bucket again but could do nothing but dry heave. There was nothing left in her to throw up.

Again they brought water and food. She had to drink, she knew. She was dehydrated, and she'd be no good to Hawkeye or herself in this condition. But she saved half her food. She knew he had to be hungry.

xxxxxxxxx

"Replacements?" BJ repeated the word as if it was in a foreign language. "Sir, it's only been a week and a half."

"I'm sorry, son. But the MPs haven't found a trace of either of them. That's a week and a half we've been short a surgeon. If we get wounded, that one surgeon could be the difference between life and death for one of those boys. No one's trying to replace Pierce and Houlihan in our minds or hearts, but we have to replace them in the OR."

BJ sighed, all the fight going out of him. "It just feels so final."

"It's not. They're going to keep looking for them."

"Colonel -"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"Would it have anything to do with leaving camp to find them?"

BJ's abashed silence was as good as an answer.

"The MPs are taking care of it. I need you here."

xxxxxxxxx

The days had blurred together long ago. Hawkeye lay in her arms, sobbing in pain. He was frequently given only a few hours to rest before they tortured him again.

He had stopped allowing her to give him her rations. She knew he had to be hungry and thirsty, but he insisted that she take what was brought to her. Only twice had food been brought while he was there, and in both cases he'd inhaled every morsel and drop he was allowed, until she longed to give him a bit of her own. She'd tried the first time to offer, and he'd refused before she'd finished asking.

The door slid open and he tensed against her. He knew what was coming. They both did. There was nothing Margaret could do to calm him.

"You lucky, Joe," the Korean said in broken English. "You get break. We take her."

"What?" he was shocked. "She doesn't know anything."

"We take her. Have other uses for girl."

Margaret went rigid. _No, no, please no._

She felt movement against her body. She didn't know how he did it, but Hawkeye was instantly on his feet. "Leave her alone."

The Korean began to laugh. "You can't fight, Joe. You can't stand."

A fist connected solidly with his face, and he went down hard. Two guards rushed in at once, and Hawkeye went pale. He knew he was in major trouble now.

Then Margaret was on her feet and one of the guards was down, having been simultaneously slapped firmly across the face and taken her knee between his legs. Before he could recover, she'd grabbed his gun and pointed it at the other guard's head.

The man's eyes went wide, and he dropped his own gun on the floor and put his hands behind his head.

"Show us the way out."

With Hawkeye stumbling next to her, she followed the guard. He walked to the door and, at Margaret's urging, slid it open.

"Kneel down." When he obeyed, she pulled off his belt and bound his hands. Then she tore a strip from his jacket and gagged him.

Hawkeye stood by, leaning against the wall. "Come on, Margaret. Let's go home."

**As you requested, a new chapter for your reading pleasure. I couldn't leave you with that cliffhanger for too long.**

**I should warn you that the next chapter is already proving difficult to get right, so it may be awhile. I'll try to cut 'awhile' as short as possible.**

**Please review.**


	10. Chapter Ten: Inner Strength

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Ten: Inner Strength**_

"Damn it, can't you move any faster than that?"

"I'm sorry, Doctor," she said in a fairly snotty voice.

BJ might have thrown up his hands if they weren't buried in someone's guts. The new head nurse was driving him up the wall. She was arrogant, she was difficult, and she wasn't even a very good nurse. He'd already heard more than a fair share of complaints from the nurses about her. He had a feeling that if they did get Margaret back, they'd never complain the same way about her again.

Their surgeon was little better. He was fresh from stateside and nervous as anything. It took him forever to do even one surgery, and he didn't do them all that well either. He also found a way to botch anything he did unless they gave him practically second-by-second directions. Compared to him, Charles had been a shining meatball surgeon in his first days.

"It's like the worst parts of Chuckles and Ferret Face put together," Kellye had commented, which had made him laugh and then cry at the Hawkeye-like comment. He was prone to crying at the drop of a hat right now, though to his credit he'd kept his head pretty well in OR.

Potter had pointed out that they could get the second-best surgeon in Korea and BJ would still hate him. That was true, he'd admitted, but this guy was far from the second-best surgeon in Korea.

xxxxxxxxx

"Come on, Hawkeye. Let's take a break."

She didn't know how he wasn't the one asking for a break. They'd been walking for days with only minimal rest, and she'd been the one calling all the breaks. How he could walk at all was a mystery.

She was so hungry she was trembling, but they hadn't come across a single source of food or safe water. Again she stole a glance at Hawkeye, who was lying gingerly on his side. He had to be even more desperate than she was, to say nothing of being in unimaginable pain, but he hadn't said so much as a word of complaint the whole time. She didn't know how he did it.

"Margaret, you sleep, I'll keep watch."

"That's what we did last time. You're hurt and exhausted. Come here."

He crawled towards her, collapsing at her side. She brought his head into her lap. "_You_ sleep. I'll keep my eyes open this time."

He was too tired to argue with her.

xxxxxxxxx

"What happened?"

BJ barely looked up from his patient as Winchester walked in. Normally this would have meant BJ could leave, but that wasn't going to happen under the circumstances. "Nurse Brilliant mixed up his medications. He's had twice as much morphine as he should. I have to try and keep him breathing until it wears off."

"That dolt! You want me to get Potter?"

"I think you'd better," he said as the man went into a seizure.

"What in the name of Sam Hill happened here?" Potter hurried in not two minutes after Winchester had left. The man now lay still, his breathing shallow.

"Jenkins overdosed him on morphine."

"_What_?" Potter rushed to the man's other side. "What are his signs?"

"Pressure 60 over 40, pulse 50, and he's struggling to breathe. I have to get him through the night. If we can keep him alive until it starts to wear off, he should be okay."

"I'll help."

"As will I." Charles had reentered the room carrying three cups of coffee. "I thought we could all use some."

"Thanks, Charles. But can you just put it down somewhere? I've got my hands full."

xxxxxxxxx

"Wake up, Hawkeye."

"He did, with a soft moan of pain. "What is it?"

"It's dawn."

"So?"

"We know we need to head south to get into friendly territory. Right now, we can keep the sun on our left and know where we're going. Once it comes up we won't have it to navigate by."

"Okay." His voice was hoarse with pain and thirst, but with her help he forced himself to his feet. "Let's go."

xxxxxxxxx

"Pulse at 70, BP 120 over 80, and he's breathing regularly. I think he's going to be okay."

A ragged cheer rose up from the OR at BJ's words. From Potter and Charles, who'd been working tirelessly with BJ to keep the man alive, and from about half the OR patients, who had tuned in to watch the show.

"Tell the nurse on duty to check him every ten minutes and come get me if there's any change. I'm going to bed."

"Hunnicutt?"

"Yes, Colonel?"

"That was a wonderful thing you did. You saved a man's life."

It was because BJ was turned to look at him while still walking that he collided with someone going the other way. "Oh, I'm very -" Then he realized who he'd bumped into, and it turned to fury. "You! You idiot!"

"What?" She fixed him with a look of wide-eyed innocence. "What did I do?"

"You overdosed him on morphine!" BJ pointed a shaking hand at the patient they'd sat up with all night. "You could have killed him!"

"Doctor, please." She sounded like they were having a conversation over a cup of coffee.

"All right, all right." Potter stepped in before it could get out of hand, he could tell BJ was about to boil over. "Hunnicutt, go get some sleep. Jenkins, my office, now. Winchester, keep an eye on things until I get back."

xxxxxxxxx

"Hawkeye, do you see something?"

"No." His voice was a hoarse rasp. His thirst was a torture all its own, his stomach cramped painfully with hunger, and every inch of him hurt. He didn't have the energy to waste looking anywhere but straight ahead.

"It's some kind of structure. Could be people there."

"And they could be enemy people. Come on, we should keep going the same way we've been going. We're bound to find our line."

They hadn't been walking for more than five minutes when they heard the sound of an engine. Hawkeye threw himself painfully behind the nearest bush, pulling Margaret with him.

The engine became louder. Then, suddenly, it stopped. Margaret saw boots approaching.

Margaret placed her hand on the gun she'd taken off the Korean. They didn't dare so much as breathe. Her finger was on the safety, but she couldn't actually take it off without risking being overheard.

"Get your gun," said a voice suddenly. "I swear I heard something from these bushes."

Margaret gasped. The boots they could see turned to face them, but she wasn't afraid anymore. The voice had spoken perfect English, and his only accent was a hint of southern American.

She stood up slowly, trying not to alarm him into firing. His weapon swung towards her, but it was lowered just as quickly when he realized about her what she'd already figured out about him; she was American.

"Thank God you found us."

"Ma'am, are you all right?" the other man asked. She followed his gaze - to the blood on her uniform.

"It's not mine. My friend is hurt badly, he needs help. Is there a medic in the area?"

"There's an aid station about two miles from here."

"Even better." She dropped to one knee. "Hawkeye, did you hear that? We're safe."

With a strength she wouldn't have believed possible if she hadn't spent the last few days with him, he took hold of her arm and hauled himself to his feet. "I heard. Let's go."

He stumbled into the jeep, and she walked around and sat beside him, letting him rest in her lap.

"Do you have water?" she asked, licking her parched lips.

"Here you go, ma'am." The soldier who had first found them passed back a canteen as the other started the jeep. Margaret took a long gulp, and then carefully propped Hawkeye up and held it to his lips.

"Here. I have water."

"You need -" He weakly tried to push it away, trying at the same to fight back his longing for what she was offering.

"I've already had some. Please, Hawkeye. I know you're thirsty."

_God, am I ever._ His mouth was parched, his throat burned and he was so dizzy. When she put the canteen back to his lips he couldn't fight his body's need anymore and he allowed her to tip the liquid into his mouth. Nothing in the world could have tasted as good as that water did then. He sucked desperately at the opening of the bottle, trying to get as much of it down as fast as he could.

Margaret knew she should try to get him to drink more slowly, but looking down at him she couldn't do it. He was soaked in his own blood, he'd been horrifically injured, and he was clearly dying of thirst. If he wanted to gulp the water down, she would let him.

"It'll be okay," she said softly. "We're going to get help for you."

"I know," he whispered as he emptied the canteen and reluctantly pulled his lips away. "I'm safe here. With you."

He cried out as the jeep hit a pothole, jarring his injured body, and she pulled him close. "Can't you drive any smoother?"

"Sorry, ma'am. The road's all shot up."

Another jerk, and the jeep began to list to one side. "I don't believe it. Blew a tire. I'm sorry ma'am, sir." He pulled off the road.

She felt Hawkeye tense, and her own hand went to the gun. "Don't worry. I'll keep watch."

"Keep watch, ma'am?" asked the driver.

"That's how we got into trouble in the first place. Pulled over to change a tire and didn't watch our surroundings as carefully as we should have."

They were on edge for the entire time it took to get the tire changed, but no one was seen and they continued on their way. Margaret had never been so glad to see an aid station.

"What do you have, Sergeant?" A weary medic had come out to speak to the driver.

"Picked these two up a few miles down the road. One seriously hurt."

"Holy cow!" He must have been tired indeed, Margaret thought, not to notice the blood that covered them both. "What the hell happened?"

"Long story. Look, I'm a nurse. His injuries are serious but not immediately life-threatening. He can hang on long enough to get to a hospital as long as he gets transportation as soon as possible."

He nodded. "I'll put him on the next chopper. What about you?"

"It's all his. But I'd like to go with him."

She saw the shocked and horrified look that crossed his features for an instant before his mask slammed into place. "Okay, ma'am." He turned and called into the station, and two men came running out. "Get him onto a stretcher and have him ready to be loaded onto a chopper the second we get one."

It seemed an endless amount of time passed before the sound of chopper blades pierced the air. At the 4077, they'd all hated that sound. But here, it meant salvation.

The aid station workers were quick and well-practiced, and it didn't take them long to get Hawkeye secured in the chopper. Margaret stepped carefully over him, strapping herself into the passenger's seat as another patient was secured on the other side.

Her shoulders slumped as the chopper lifted off. Finally, she was safe. She could relax.

xxxxxxxxx

"Sir, we've got another chopper on the pad!"

"Who has free hands?" Potter asked resignedly.

"I do not." Charles' Harvard accent rang through the room.

"I - I can do it," Riley, the new doctor, stammered.

"Not with that attitude. Here, close for me. I'll go." BJ beckoned the so-called doctor over to his table before pulling off his gloves and running up the hill.

He knelt down to check the first patient, on the pilot's side, vaguely aware of movement on the other side but choosing to ignore it. The man appeared to be in decent shape, with only a few lacerations and some shrapnel in his leg. What worried BJ most was that he appeared to be going into shock.

"Get him into pre-op and give him some whole blood. Put him at the end of the line, he can wait." BJ rounded the chopper and saw a blonde woman with a blood-stained uniform kneeling over the man on the stretcher.

"It's all right," he said softly, trying to put her at ease. "I'm a doctor."

She turned, and he barely had time to recognize her before she threw herself at him. "BJ!"

"Margaret?" He stared at her, stunned.

"Oh, BJ, if you weren't married I'd kiss you right now."

"Margaret, what happened to you? Where's Hawkeye?"

Stepping out of his arms, she answered his second question first, pointing at the man below her with a trembling hand. "I'm not hurt," she whispered. "It's all his."

"Oh, my God." BJ dropped to his knees beside his best friend, checking him over. He knew he didn't have to tell Margaret what his medical condition was, but he did notice something odd.

"Corpsman! This one's serious, get him a unit of whole blood, A-negative, and start an IV for dehydration. And short of any life-threatening injuries, put him at the head of the line."

As the corpsmen rushed off with Hawkeye, BJ turned to Margaret. "Can I offer you a lift?"

"I'm actually tired enough to accept." She allowed him to take her into his arms and carry her down the hill.

"Margaret, can I ask you something?"

"Of course." She rested her head wearily on his shoulder.

"Why was Hawkeye wearing Major's clusters?"

A thousand feelings raced through her mind at once. She wanted to lash out, she wanted to cry, she wanted to hit him, she wanted to kiss him. She settled for a soft "that damn fool. He never told me."

"Told you what?"

"That he took my rank pins."

It was clear she wasn't going to say more on the subject, and anyway they'd reached post-op. "Kellye!"

She came up, stopping short. "Major Houlihan!"

"It's not as bad as it looks," he assured the lieutenant. "Get her inside, make sure she lies down and start her on an IV for dehydration. Get her some food and water too, and make sure she eats." He took another, thoughtful look at Margaret. "And make sure you leave an empty bed next to her."

"Sir?"

"I'll explain later."

xxxxxxxxx

"I've got free hands. What's next?"

"We've got a guy just came off the chopper, Dr. Hunnicutt said to make him a priority. Then we've got three others in less serious condition."

"Give me the one from the chopper." BJ had scrubbed in record time and was now back in the OR. "Bring in one of the others for Riley."

Hawkeye was carried in and placed on the table as BJ was gloved. The man stirred slightly as he was laid down.

"Easy. Put him under."

A tiny flash of recognition came through the patient's eyes before the mask was lowered over his face and he was out. _Out of pain_, BJ thought silently. As badly injured as he was, he had to be hurting.

"What happened to him?" asked the nurse at anesthesia.

"I'm not sure, but it's going to be tough. Watch his signs carefully, he's lost a lot of blood. Scalpel."

"Scalpel."

The normal OR chatter faded into the background. BJ's only focus was on the man who lay in his own OR as a patient. "Spleen's damaged beyond repair. I'll have to remove it. I could use another set of hands over here."

"Able, close for me." Potter stripped off his gloves. "What's the problem?"

"It's not one problem." BJ barely looked up. "There are just so _many_ injuries."

"What the Sam Hill happened to him?"

"I don't know. But I can guess. Take a look at him."

"Torture."

BJ nodded, forcing back tears. "There's more. You may want to take a look at who it is you're operating on."

He turned to look at the face beneath the anesthesia mask. "Suffering saddle soap! Where's -"

"Post-op. I checked her, she's fine. Now give me a hand here."

xxxxxxxxx

Margaret had recieved more than a few strange looks for wolfing down the mess tent food that had been served to her, but it didn't bother her. Clearly, none of them knew what it meant to be truly hungry. After days of eating nothing, she was ready to eat anything. She'd had several glasses of water, too. She knew she'd probably be making multiple runs to the latrine that night, but she was so thirsty.

There was nothing to do, but she couldn't sleep. She was sick with worry over Hawkeye, and reeling from the bombshell BJ had unknowingly dropped on her.

It had been a simple observation from his perspective. But she knew what it had meant. Hawkeye had known that they would try to get information out of the highest-ranking officer. He'd taken her pins and put them on his own jacket while she was unconscious.

He had put himself in harm's way to save her.

She couldn't hold back her tears anymore. They flowed freely now, and she buried her face in the pillow, a habit learned from years around her father, who didn't like to hear her cry. She felt a gentle hand on her back and looked into Kellye's concerned face.

"Are you okay, Major?"

"I'm just worried about Hawkeye. No one's telling me anything."

The reason for the empty bunk hit her. "Major - Margaret." When the woman didn't react badly to being called by name, Kellye knelt down next to her. "You know that these kinds of things take time. Our doctors are the best there are."

"Thanks, Kellye."

"You're welcome."

xxxxxxxxx

"Colonel?"

"Major." His voice was choked, and he sat down on her cot, putting his arms around her. "God, I've been so scared."

She clung to him, relishing his embrace. "Hawkeye -"

"Hunnicutt's finishing him. He'll be fine, Margaret. It took awhile to repair all the damage, but there's nothing we couldn't fix."

He held her for a few more moments before getting back to business. "Margaret, I'm sorry, but I need you to tell me what happened."

"We were on our way back from the 121st and a tire blew on the jeep. Hawkeye pulled over to change it and we started talking, he was telling me a story about something. We got the tire changed and he stood up and just went pale, and there was a group of North Koreans heading towards us. I tried to get down and, uh, hit my head on the edge of the jeep. I don't know exactly what happened then, but from what I can piece together from context, Hawkeye put both our dog tags under the jeep seat and took my clusters off my uniform and put them on his." She knew from Potter's nod that he knew as well as she did why he'd done that. "I woke up in a cell with him - he was terrified, sir. It was the worst possible place for someone with his problem. I don't know how long we were there, but they would come and take him away. The first time, I couldn't understand why I was hearing screams -" She choked. "I'm sorry."

"That's all right."

"At first, I would save him some of the food and water they brought me while he was out. There wasn't much, but he wasn't getting anything while he was out of the cell. He stopped letting me, said I needed it, wouldn't hear otherwise. They'd usually let him rest for a few hours and then come back and he'd be gone for what I think was days. Then one time they came for me instead." She shuddered, and he gripped her shoulder. "I don't know how he did it, but Hawkeye got to his feet and knocked the guy out before he knew what was happening. Two guards came in, but I was able to take one down and I got his gun and made the other guard show us the way out. Then we walked."

"In Hawkeye's condition?"

"Don't ask me how he did it. I was the one calling the breaks, if you can believe that. Well, earlier today we took cover because we heard a jeep, but they must have seen something because they stopped. We were so scared, and then we heard one of the guys talking, and he was American. I've never heard a more beautiful sound in my life."

"I can imagine."

"They drove us to the aid station, and from there we got the chopper. And dear God, I never thought I'd be so happy to see this place."

Klinger and another corpsman came in with a litter. "Where do you want him?"

"Here." Potter indicated the empty bed next to Margaret. Hawkeye was set down gently and the IV bottles were hung.

"Klinger, send -"

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"-Radar in here," he finished needlessly. "Radar, get on the horn to I-CORPS, tell them to take Captain Pierce and Major Houlihan off the missing list."

Radar realized suddenly who was sitting next to the Colonel. "Holy cow!"

"Radar -"

"I-CORPS on the horn, right."

"And you. Get some sleep." He eased Margaret down to her pillow.

"Yes, sir." She was asleep before her head was down.

**How did you all like this resolution? Don't worry, there's at least one and maybe two more chapters in this arc.**

**Please review.**


	11. Chapter Eleven: No Place Like Home

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Eleven: No Place Like Home**_

Hawkeye woke slowly, and wished he hadn't. He hurt everywhere. He was still desperately hungry and thirsty; while the water he'd been given in the jeep had been a welcome feeling, it hadn't come close to meeting his need. He felt sick. He really needed to use the latrine.

_God, it was so much easier being asleep._ But he noticed something else. He was on a bed.

He remembered getting into the jeep, being loaded onto the chopper, the flight, being unloaded and carried, and then a familiar voice, BJ's voice, and then the mask -

_Post-op._ At least knowing where he was meant he could get right to a latrine instead of having to try and find one. He opened his eyes and sat partway up, but the movement caused pain to shoot through his body and he slumped back to the bed, gasping.

"Hey, take it easy." BJ's voice sounded from somewhere above him. "What are you trying to do?"

He turned his head to look at his friend, to make sure it wasn't all an illusion. "Beej, you're a beautiful sight."

The younger doctor grinned. "I like to think so. Now why don't you tell me where you thought you were going?"

"Latrine." He was too tired and hurt too much to keep up any banter. He just wanted to take care of what he needed to take care of and go back to sleep.

"Not for the next couple of days. You're strictly on bed rest. The bathroom's one floor down."

He felt too awful and needed to go too badly to argue the point. He did what was needed as quickly and discreetly as possible and slid the bedpan back under the bed.

"How do you feel?"

"Terrible."

"What's wrong? You in pain?"

"We can start with that."

BJ stood and walked over to the cart, picking up a needle. "I'm going to give you a shot of morphine, all right?"

"Fine." Anything to stop the pain.

He felt the needle in his arm, and sighed with relief as it began to kick in.

"Better?"

"Much. Hey, you know if I can get room service in this place?" With his pain down to tolerable, he could start making weak jokes again.

"Hungry?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"I'll see what I can do."

Of all the things to be grateful for, mess tent "food" was one Hawkeye had never expected to put on his list. But when he'd been sat up and the tray was brought to him, he'd never been so glad to see food - any food - in his life.

He took a huge mouthful of whatever it was. He knew it tasted terrible, but he didn't care. It felt wonderful in his aching stomach. He drank half his glass of water in one gulp. Nothing in the world could have tasted better than that simple liquid. He didn't bother even trying to act like he wasn't starving. He inhaled the meal. He drained the glass of water and drank two more.

"Anything else?" BJ asked once he'd finished.

"I feel sort of sick. Not like sick to my stomach, just - sick."

"You're running a fever. I've ruled out secondary infection, so it's probably just a side effect of the dehydration. You'll feel better once we get your fluid levels up to normal."

"All I want to do now is sleep." He was fighting to keep his eyes open. Having a full stomach had just added to his weariness.

"Then sleep, Hawk." He helped his friend lie down. "Get some rest, you look like you need it."

"Won't argue with you," he mumbled before he dropped off completely.

xxxxxxxxx

A noise roused Margaret from a sound sleep. That in itself was odd - being in the army meant learning to sleep through anything. On top of it, the only noises she could hear were a soft snuffling, whimpering sound, and a faint rattling, hardly loud enough to wake even the lightest sleeper.

It hit her, and she sat up suddenly, eyes flying open. The noise hadn't woken her because it was loud, it was the first noise that had done it, and it had woken her because she knew what it meant. She turned to her right, looking at the occupant of the bed.

Hawkeye was sobbing in his sleep, shaking so hard it was rattling his cot. Grateful beyond expression at this moment that she was off the IV, she carefully stood and walked over to him.

"Hawkeye?"

He didn't say a word to acknowledge that he'd heard her. She carefully reached out and touched his hair. "Hawkeye, it's all right. You're safe now, you're home, and I'm here."

His eyes opened and he took her in. Then he weakly reached for her arm. "Margaret."

"It's me."

"Margaret - so scared," he sobbed.

"I know. I know you are. But you're safe now."

"Stay?"

She hesitated. To get both of them on one cot as they had done so many times in the past would mean getting extremely close, and she was worried she might hurt him. But he clearly wanted her there, and as scared as he was she couldn't deny him.

"Look, I need to take a few steps away, I won't go far, all right?"

"Okay." He reluctantly let go.

He heard a few soft scraping noises and then something bumped his cot. Then he felt a slight dip in the very edge of it.

She brushed gently against him. "I'm here, Hawkeye."

He turned his head slowly to see that she had brought her own bed up next to his and was lying spread over the edge of his and part of hers. His hand found hers.

"Go to sleep," she whispered. "It's going to be all right."

xxxxxxxxx

"Uh - Doctor Hunnicutt?"

"What?" BJ wasn't sure why Riley, who was supposed to be on duty in Post-Op, was interrupting him in the middle of his breakfast. He really couldn't stand the guy.

"There's something going on in Post-Op..."

"What does 'something going on' mean, Riley?"

"Well, uh, it's not a medical problem or anything, I'm just not sure it's allowed -"

"Oh, for God's sake. Forget it. Just show me the problem."

Post-Op was quiet, much to BJ's relief. He'd been half-expecting an epic fight to have made the young doctor so nervous. "I don't get it. What's the problem?"

"_There_." He pointed to a cot on the right side. Actually, BJ realized, it was two cots that had been moved to create one makeshift bed.

Hawkeye and Margaret had moved together in their sleep. She lay on her left side, her right arm draped across his waist. His left hand was wrapped around it in a death grip even as he slept. His right arm was under her head and his hand lay on her shoulder, while her left arm crossed over his right and her hand rested in his hair. Her forehead was against his cheek.

"Are they allowed to do that?" Riley asked.

"Under the circumstances, I'll allow it." He couldn't help smiling. "I think separating them would do more damage than anything that could happen because of this - arrangement."

"But how am I supposed to take vital signs with them all - wrapped up like that?"

"Never mind, I'll do it." _God, what an idiot. I'll be glad when Hawkeye's able to take his job back._

Hawkeye was dead to the world, but Margaret stirred as BJ took her pulse. "What time is it?"

"About 10 hundred hours, but don't worry about it. You're off duty until Potter or I say otherwise."

He'd expected her to protest, but she only nodded. "How is he?"

"He'll be tired and in pain for awhile, and it'll be a week or two until he's back on his feet, but he'll be fine. His fever's down."

"BJ, I need to, uh, get up for a minute." She turned slightly red, but he only nodded. "Can you just sit here with him until I get back?"

"Of course."

Margaret carefully disengaged herself from Hawkeye, and BJ carefully took his friend's hand. Hawkeye's eyes opened slowly and he squinted at his friend.

"How do you feel?"

"A little bit better. Still hurts."

"You want some morphine?" BJ started to get up, but Hawkeye gripped his hand tighter.

"No. Don't leave me."

"I won't," he promised, sitting back down. "I missed you, Hawk."

"I missed you too."

"You don't know how worried I was. When we heard you'd probably been taken, I almost trashed the Colonel's office. For days I cried whenever anything reminded me of you."

"Why, Beej. I had no idea."

"Can't you ever be serious?" he asked through a watery smile.

"Sure I can. It's just easier to make jokes, especially when I feel like I do."

"And how's that?"

"I'm scared," he admitted softly. "I keep thinking this is all a dream, that I'll wake up back in that awful dark place. I can't stop remembering their faces. I tried not to scream, but it just hurt so much." Tears brimmed in his eyes. "They kept asking questions - I didn't even _know_ the answers. The only thing I could have told them was the one thing I wouldn't."

"What was that?"

"That I wasn't the ranking officer."

The reason for the clusters he'd found when he'd examined Hawkeye hit him. "My God. You went through all that - to protect Margaret?"

"I couldn't let them hurt her." A couple of tears slipped down his face. "I couldn't."

BJ gently wiped his friend's face. "I know, Hawk." And he did know. He knew that for all the front Hawkeye put up, he'd die before he'd let a friend be hurt.

The gentle touch broke him and he started sobbing. BJ brought him into a sitting position and hugged him carefully. Hawkeye pulled his friend tight, frightened, just wanting to hold and be held.

Margaret stepped back into the ward and took in the scene. She sat down behind Hawkeye and began to stroke his hair as he cried. She didn't dare touch his back, she knew it would hurt him more than comfort him.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, lifting his head from BJ's shoulder.

"Don't be, you needed that." He kept his arms around Hawkeye's shoulders.

Hawkeye unwound one hand from BJ's back and reached out for Margaret. She slipped her hand into his. "I'm here."

"I'm sorry, Margaret. You've been through everything I have and I'm making you comfort me."

"No, Hawkeye. I haven't been through everything you have. I'm not the one who's claustrophobic, and because of that little stunt you pulled while I was out, I'm not the one they tortured."

"You weren't supposed to know about that."

"BJ noticed your rank pins. Or rather, mine. On your uniform."

"I'll buy you a new set."

That completely broke her and she started crying. Hawkeye looked both puzzled and concerned. "Was it something I said?"

"You did all - all _this_ for me, and you're worried about replacing my clusters?" she sobbed. "No, you're giving me my old ones back, and that's my final word on the subject." She rather forcibly pulled herself together.

"They'll be on my jacket - wherever that is. BJ won't let me out of this bed." He yawned. "And I'm not sure I could get out of it if he did."

"Do you need anything?" BJ asked.

"You know that morphine you offered?" He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. "I'll take you up on it."

"All right." He disengaged from his friend, noticing with heartbreak that Hawkeye slid closer to Margaret as soon as he did. He wouldn't have thought anything could shake his friend so badly that he'd cling to them the way he was.

He gave Hawkeye the shot and watched him relax a little. "Should I have someone bring you two some breakfast?"

"That sounds great." Hawkeye's stomach growled in agreement with his statement.

"I'll see what I can round up."

xxxxxxxxx

"Margaret, what can I do for you?"

"Colonel, I want to talk to you. It's important."

He shocked her by starting to laugh. "I'm sorry. But I've missed your attitude. What was it you needed?"

"Colonel, I want to put Captain Pierce in for a commendation."

"Pierce?"

"He risked his life for me out there, in more ways than one. I know all this army stuff doesn't mean much to him, but I think - he knows how much it means to me, and I think _that_ will mean something to him."

"I'll see what I can do. For what it's worth, I agree with you that he deserves one."

**OK, anyone who knows more about the army than I do (meaning anything) help me out. What kind of commendation could Hawkeye get for his heroics? I know absolutely nothing about army commendations.**

**Please review.**


	12. Chapter Twelve: Back on Their Feet

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Twelve: Back on Their Feet  
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"Good news, Major. You're officially back on duty." BJ lowered his voice. "And not a moment too soon. I can't wait to ship Jenkins out."

"What's so awful about her?"

"Remember how incompetent Frank was? Picture that level of incompetence in a nurse."

"What's she done?"

"Mostly a little of this, a little of that, not paying attention to her patients in post-op. The big one was shooting up one of my patients with too much morphine."

"My god! Did he -"

"He made it, but it took Potter, Winchester, and me sitting around him all night. And then she sauntered in the next morning acting like she'd done nothing wrong. Potter told her she's not allowed to give medication anymore."

"What about the surgeon?"

"Riley? Not that bad, but way too green for a front line unit. Too worried about rules too. I can't wait to ship him out either, but Hawkeye needs at least a week's rest before I let him get back on his feet."

Margaret nodded. "Make sure he gets it, will you? If I know him, he'll be fighting to get out of bed as soon as he can stay awake long enough."

BJ laughed. "Don't worry, I've foreseen that possibility. He will be staying in bed until I say otherwise. And Margaret - if you get tired or whatever, tell the doctor on duty and we'll find someone to fill in for you. And that's an order."

"I outrank you," she replied playfully.

He grinned. "And I'm your doctor. Which means that whether or not you outrank me, I have the right to give you orders. So - take care of yourself. That's an order."

xxxxxxxxx

"Attention all personnel! Incoming wounded! This is going to be a big one, folks!"

Hawkeye sighed. He knew he wasn't allowed to get back to work yet, but he was too well-conditioned. The announcement had left him wide awake, and he'd been sleeping so much he wasn't particularly tired. He lay awake, anxious.

"Klinger!" He snagged the large-nosed man in the dress as he walked through. "What's going on?"

"Some kind of major engagement. There's a lot of wounded out there, we're running out of room in pre-op! Sorry, no time to chat!"

Klinger ran back out, and Hawkeye lay there, staring at the door he'd just walked through.

_Running out of room in pre-op..._

_This is going to be a big one, folks..._

_I'd sure as hell want him around when that_ _battle was over..._

He sat up and threw back the blanket. He knew what he had to do.

He'd been allowed to get out of bed and walk around a bit for the last few days, a fact for which he was grateful now, remembering how shaky he'd been on his first walk. He was steady on his feet now. In the chaos, no one seemed to notice a patient walking towards the scrub room.

Autopilot took over as soon as he'd turned the sink on. He went through the rest of the procedure without really thinking about it. It was just as he was rinsing that he heard an unfamiliar voice behind him. "What are you doing?"

He knew from the scrubs who this had to be; Riley, the substitute doctor who'd been driving BJ crazy. "What's it look like? I'm scrubbing."

"Captain, please go back into post-op. We're very busy right now. Don't get in the way."

"I'm not getting in the way, I'm helping."

"What is going on out here?" Potter stepped into the scrub room. "Pierce?"

"Klinger said you're backed up."

"Pierce, are you strong enough to operate?"

"I'll be fine. I've operated in a worse condition."

"When?" Potter's question was rhetorical, but Hawkeye actually had an answer.

"You weren't here, but about a year and a half ago, almost the entire camp came down with the flu and I was left running the whole OR. And I managed to get sick just as we got a whole load of casualties in. Ran a twelve-hour OR session by myself with the flu. Margaret should remember."

"If you think you can do it, we can sure use your hands in there." He poked his head back into the OR. "If there's a free nurse, I need her out here!"

Kellye smiled at him as she tied his mask over his face. "It's good to have you back, Doctor."

"It's good to be back." He backed through the door, and everyone looked up. Even with their faces covered, he could see their reactions. He knew Margaret was smiling behind her mask, that Charles was trying to pretend he didn't care, that BJ was trying to decide if he was worried or grateful, and that Riley was still perplexed.

It was BJ who spoke first. "Hawk, I've got a chest case here. Can you -"

"Sure. Gloves!"

xxxxxxxxx

"How long were we at that one?" Hawkeye asked as he peeled off his scrubs.

"Forty-three hours," Potter replied tiredly. "Are you okay, Pierce? You didn't take a single break the whole time."

Margaret had noticed that too. She'd been working with her nurses to make sure he had food and something to drink whenever he needed it, and usually before he said he did, but she hadn't been able to convince him to take a nap. She and the Colonel had considered making it an order but scrapped that idea when they'd realized he'd probably ignore it anyway.

"I don't think I've ever wanted to sleep so badly in my entire life." He was dying to get into bed.

"You'll have to come back to the Swamp." BJ was glad he'd insisted Riley take the spare bunk - they'd given up on acting like it was ever going to be taken out - instead of Hawkeye's. "We turned your bed over to a patient, remember?"

"Yeah." He did vaguely remember Klinger saying that post-op was filling up fast and asking if they could put someone in his bed, and him agreeing. "All right, then. Let's see if I can get there while I can still walk."

"I'll go with you," BJ added. It turned out to be a good thing he had. Hawkeye had made it about a third of the way across the compound when his exhausted, overtaxed body simply refused to carry him any further and his knees buckled, plunging him towards the dirt. He would have fallen on his face if BJ hadn't caught him.

"Hawkeye!" His friend's voice was tight with panic.

"Don't yell, my head already hurts."

"Are you all right?"

"Just tired. Help me, would you?" He didn't want to stand there talking about it. He just wanted to get to bed.

BJ wrapped his arm around his friend's waist and slid Hawkeye's arm over his shoulders, supporting the bulk of his friend's weight as Hawkeye stumbled beside him.

The walk to the Swamp seemed to take forever to Hawkeye, who was thinking with every step that maybe he shouldn't have given up his bed in post-op so soon or he'd be asleep already. But finally, he saw the door to the Swamp, and then a few steps later his cot. It had never looked so wonderful to him.

"Just lie down and get some sleep. You're not officially back on the active list, so you're not on the duty roster for tomorrow. You can sleep as long as you want."

Hawkeye sat down, then simply tipped over, landing on his side, out before he made contact. BJ pulled off his shoes, swung his legs onto the bed, and covered him with the blanket.

"Welcome home, Hawk."

xxxxxxxxx

It was still light when he woke - or, he suspected, light again. He rolled over, debating whether to try getting up or just go back to sleep.

"Hawk?"

He smiled at his friend. "How long was I asleep?"

"Almost fifteen hours. How do you feel?"

"Like I can walk under my own power."

"That's an improvement."

Hawkeye laughed. "Is it worth getting out of bed for - uh, whatever meal we're up to?"

"It's lunch, and I wouldn't."

"How's the bar?"

"In prime condition," he poured Hawkeye a drink, "if a little underused."

"I hope that doesn't mean what I think it means."

"I told you, Hawk, it was hard for me to do things that reminded me of you. Don't worry, I drank plenty. Just not from the still."

Hawkeye laughed. "I knew I could count on you." His face grew serious. "You really missed me, huh?"

"Here." He handed Hawkeye a plain envelope.

"What is it?"

"While you were gone, I wrote you a letter with all the things I could never say. I think I'll probably chicken out if I try to say them, so - just read it, would you?"

"Okay."

__Dear Hawkeye,__

__I look over at your cot and still expect to see you there. It's hard for me to think that I'll probably never see you again. I can't imagine this place without you.__

__There are a lot of things I never told you, Hawk. Things I think you should know. Let me start by saying that I have never had a friend as close as you, and I never expect to. I don't know what I would have done without you, or what this place would have done to me.__

__I remember the day we met. You were so agitated over missing Trapper that I barely even registered to you, and yet you took the time out to, in your own way, make me feel a little less out of place. Every joke you made took away a tiny bit of the fear I was feeling. At the time, I thought you somehow weren't afraid. I realize now that you were every bit as scared as I was. You'd just learned not to let it get to you.__

__I was sure in particular that you'd be disgusted after I got sick. After all, what kind of doctor can't hold down his lunch when he sees a dead man? But I felt you holding me up, and I looked up into your eyes and saw more compassion than I have ever seen from anyone, and I realized that you knew exactly how I was feeling, and that as long as you were there, I'd be okay. And now you're gone, and I know I may never see you again, and I don't know what I'm going to do without you.__

__I've been away from my family for a year now, and you've been around me enough to know that it hurts me like hell every second. But I've found a family here too, and that family starts with you. I'd say you're my brother, but that's inadequate to describe how close I feel to you. I've only known you a year and yet I feel like you've been there forever. Except now you're not, and my heart feels like it's shattered into more tiny pieces than everything I smashed when we found out you were missing. Not even being away from my wife and daughter hurts this much.__

__In this hellhole, you've been my lifeline and my angel of mercy. I've said this more than once already, but I have to say it again. I don't know what I'd have done without you, and I don't know what I'm going to do without you now. I pray you apply your poker skills in this mess of a situation and find a way to beat the odds.__

__Yours forever,__

__BJ__

Hawkeye set down the letter and looked up. BJ was watching him anxiously. "Well?"

"I never realized you felt this way."

"I wanted it that way."

"Beej? Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have a pen?"

BJ looked perplexed for a minute, then a huge grin emerged from beneath his cheesy mustache. "Of course I do."

"Attention! Would Captain Pierce please report to Colonel Potter's office?"

He smiled at BJ. "I'll write it later."

xxxxxxxxx

Hawkeye paused when he saw that both Potter and Margaret were standing behind the desk. "Uh-oh. What did we do this time?"

A look passed between the two of them, and they seemed to be having a silent conversation. Finally, Potter spoke. "Okay, but just remember this was Major Houlihan's idea."

"If you say so." A now thoroughly perplexed Hawkeye was looking between the two of them. "What's this all about?"

Potter slid a box off his desk. "Captain Pierce -"

"Oh, now I know it's serious," he joked.

"Would you let me finish?"

"Sorry."

"Captain Pierce, in recognition of injuries sustained in the line of duty, you have been awarded the Order of Purple Heart. Congratulations, Captain." He removed the medal from the box and pinned it to Hawkeye's uniform. "In addition -"

"There's more?"

"Believe it or not, there is. In recognition of your multiple acts of bravery in the face of danger on your recent mission, with special note given to your heroism in protecting the senior officer on the mission," he nodded towards Margaret, "the United States Army has seen fit to award you the Silver Star." He lifted another box from the desk and handed this one to Margaret. "Major, would you do the honors?"

Margaret removed the medal from the box, stepped forward, and pinned it on him. She took a few steps back, then lifted her hand and saluted him.

If it had been anyone else, Hawkeye would have probably dismissed the medal and whatever it was supposed to represent without a second thought. But he knew how seriously Margaret took all this, and knew she never would have recommended a commendation unless she really thought he deserved one. And her approval and respect meant more to him than the symbolism of any piece of costume jewelry.

"For the first time in my life, I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. And Hawkeye - thank you. For everything."

His eyes met hers, and a thousand words passed between them in addition to the two he said. "Thank _you_."

xxxxxxxxx

_Dear BJ_

_There are a lot of things I never told you either. I've always had a hard time expressing my feelings, and when it comes to you feelings are what it's all about. While not seeing you again may not have been my biggest concern for the last few weeks, I wasn't exaggerating when I said you were a beautiful sight. I don't think I'd even realized how much I missed you until I saw you standing there._

_Like you, I don't know how to describe what you mean to me. I agree that brother seems inadequate somehow. I don't think I'll ever have a friend like you either._

_You said I helped you, but really, helping you helped me. While I was trying to help you stop being so afraid, I could stop thinking about how afraid and how angry I was. I was hurting a lot that first day, but being with you took a little of that away._

_I knew that you were embarrassed about being sick, which is why I tried to play it off so much. Everyone gets sick at first, believe it or not. I think I threw up everything I'd eaten for a week after my first OR session. I knew how upset you were, and I wanted to help._

_Let me tell you something, BJ. As much as I'm your lifeline, you're mine. You're the thing that keeps me sane in this awful place. I've been away from my family even longer than you've been away from yours, and when I first met you I felt like I'd just lost the closest thing I'd had to family here with Trapper leaving and Henry dying. But like you, I found a family, and it starts with you._

_Yours always,_

_Hawkeye_

_PS: Don't ask for a repeat performance. I only intend to get this gushy once._

BJ read the letter and then looked up. Tears glistened in his eyes.

Without a word, Hawkeye pulled him into a hug and they clung to each other. BJ broke the silence first. "I love you, Hawk."

And Hawkeye, for maybe the first time, went back on his word. "I love you too."

**No, no, I don't mean it like _that_ if that's how you thought I meant it. They're practically brothers, they're entitled to a platonic "I love you." I say it all the time to my friends.**

**I hope I didn't break some major army rule by giving Hawkeye two medals for one mission, but I felt like he deserved one for protecting Margaret and another for getting hurt while doing it.**

**This chapter contains brief references to _The Novocaine Mutiny_ and _Carry __On, Hawkeye_.  
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**The letters were really tricky. I hope I got them right.**

**Please review.**


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Children Shall Teach

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Thirteen: Children Shall Teach**_

"Why do I get the feeling you don't like me, Captain?"

At least the old Colonel was straightforward. A straight question deserved a straight answer, he thought, no matter what he thought of the man.

"Do you know how _hard_ she's tried her whole life to please you?"

"You mean Margaret?"

"Yes. Your _daughter_." He noticed that the man flinched very slightly at that. "She's worked her whole life to be what you wanted from her, and you've always made her feel like it wasn't enough."

"I've already explained to your CO that I didn't leave the OR because of anything Margaret did."

"I already figured that. That's not what I'm talking about."

"Oh?" Alvin Houlihan was trying to decide if he liked or hated this man's bluntness.

"I know Margaret probably better than anyone in this camp. I know how you treated her when she was a girl. I know you always made her feel inadequate. I know that when she was seventeen, she came home hurt and crying and you yelled at her and just hurt her more, and let me tell you that the only reason I haven't done more to you for that than call you out on it is that Margaret, for reasons I can't fathom, still loves you, and I respect her more than you apparently do. Let me tell you something. I've never met a person stronger or braver than Margaret, or more worthy of the respect and love you've denied her."

"You have no right -"

"She's my friend, as far as I'm concerned that gives me the right. And anyway, you asked." He threw back his drink and left the Officers' Club before the man could react.

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"Hey, hey! What's going on here?"

He broke through the assembled crowd to find a group of about men at the heart of it. The guilt on their faces told him that they were responsible for the conflict the others were crowded around to see. He also noticed that the men in question were in various states of undress.

"Who's the senior rank among you men?" he demanded. As one, about five of them pointed to a man whose rank pins identified him as a First Lieutenant. He was struggling to get into his pants, and as Alvin moved forward to intercept him, he noticed a naked girl lying on the ground, desperately trying to cover herself with her hands. She couldn't have been older than twelve.

It hit him what the men had been doing, and he was sickened by it. He slipped his jacket off and slid it around the child, then scanned the crowd until he spotted a Major he recognized and shouted to the man to get the MPs.

"What did you think you were doing?" he asked furiously, spinning on the Lieutenant.

"Just having a little fun," he slurred.

"You're drunk!" Alvin could smell the liquor on the man's breath.

"Course I am."

"What about the rest of you? What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"I'm sorry," mumbled one Private.

"Sure you are. Sorry you got caught."

"Let me through! That's my baby, let me through!" A voice rang through the air, and the crowd parted to let him come forward. He was a young Captain, his face covered with tears as he roughly shoved the men aside and knelt down next to his child. "Annie? Annie, baby, Daddy's here."

"Daddy?" she rolled over slightly and let the man gather her into his arms. One of the men opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but the Colonel shot him a look and he thought better of it.

"What happened?" the Captain asked brokenly.

"I don't know. But I'll see that these men are punished."

"You'd better." Red-rimmed eyes, hard with anger, met his. "This is your fault too, Colonel."

"Oh, really?" Normally, he'd come down hard on an officer for talking to him like this, but the man was so clearly upset that Alvin wasn't even sure he was thinking straight.

"What would you have done if it wasn't a ten-year-old girl? You've never punished a man for doing this to an adult woman. Most of them don't even bother to report this kind of thing. You go around giving out warnings to the women to never go anywhere alone, but you never lecture your men about restraint and you don't punish them when they do this kind of thing, so they think they can do it whenever they feel like it. That's what makes them think they can rape a little girl. They don't think you'll do anything about it."

"Sir, do you want us to remove him?" While Alvin had been distracted, the MPs had come up behind them.

"No, he's just upset." He gestured to the group of men who were still trying to get their clothes on. "But take all these men, confine them, and prepare a criminal trial."

"Yes, sir."

The men in question had apparently decided that it was wise not to fight with the men with the guns. At any rate, they allowed themselves to be marched off.

"You have my word, Captain. They will be punished." He laid a gentle hand on the man's shoulder, then walked away without giving so much as a reprimand for the way he'd spoken to a superior officer.

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_"Where the hell is she?" Alvin asked himself. It wasn't like his older daughter to be late. If it were Grace, sure. His younger daughter took after her mother, flightiness and all, which was probably why she'd chosen to stay with her. But not Margaret. Margaret was her father's daughter through and through, and one of the things she'd inherited from him was his sense of discipline. This included punctuality, and she was now more than an hour late._

_The door creaked open slowly, and he stood. "Where the hell have you been?"_

_"I'm sorry." Her voice was barely more than a whisper._

_"Margaret, what happened to you?" His daughter was, he realized, completely naked except for a large coat with Corporal's stripes that covered her down to mid-thigh. Her legs were scraped and bloody. Her hair was a mess. Her face and neck and what he could see of her chest were bruised. Her eyes were red from crying._

_"Daddy -" she looked like she was going to cry again._

_"Margaret, what happened?" he repeated more forcefully, and she flinched away from him. "Tell me what happened."_

_"There were three men," she said in a trembling voice. "I tried to fight them, but they were stronger than me. They took me into an empty tent, and they pulled my clothes off, and they - they raped me." The last few words came out as little more than a whisper, and he saw her face twist as she struggled not to cry._

_"Margaret, who was with you?"_

_She gave him a lost, confused look, but didn't respond._

_"There was someone else out there with you, wasn't there?"_

_She only shook her head. The anger inside him bubbled over. Didn't she understand why he'd always told her to be with someone else when she was out? He didn't want her to be hurt like this._

_"_'_Didn't I tell you not to go wandering off alone?" he asked her. She didn't answer. "Did I or didn't I?"_

_She nodded slowly._

_"Now you see what happens when you don't listen to me. Let this be a lesson to you."_

He snapped awake from the dream that had really been a memory. He'd been angry that day, like any father would be if his daughter told him she'd been raped. He'd been angry thinking that a little thing done differently could have spared her so much pain. But all he'd done was lash out at her. Then he'd spent the rest of the night sitting in the living room, trying to pretend he couldn't hear her crying herself to sleep.

The words of the Captain from earlier that day ran through his head. Then another Captain's voice came into his mind. _I know that when she was seventeen, she came home hurt and crying and you yelled at her and just hurt her more_.

_I must be slipping, to be told off by two Captains in one week and not do anything about it_. But he couldn't help but admit that both of them had been right. He'd nearly forgotten that day and everything that had happened since, Margaret eating almost nothing, growing thinner and more depressed and withdrawn every day they were at Fort Bliss until he'd finally gone in and quietly put in for a transfer, unable to watch her slowly dying in front of his eyes. No, he hadn't _forgotten_. That suggested some sort of accident. He'd tried his hardest to put those six months out of his mind. They'd gotten to Fort Hamilton and the old Margaret had started to re-emerge. He'd seen his daughter come back to life, and he'd avoided thinking about the way she'd been.

He was now _very_ glad he'd asked her to meet him in Tokyo next month.

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They'd gotten past the pleasantries. Now it was time for the part Alvin was dreading. They were alone in the hotel room. There wouldn't be a better time.

"Margaret, I want to talk to you." A simple statement, but it committed him to what he was about to do.

"Of course." She sat down. Obedient, always, that was his girl.

"Margaret, this, uh, this isn't very easy for me to say."

"What is it, sir?" She was worried now.

"Don't worry. Nothing's wrong. It's just - I'm not very good at apologies. But I think I owe you one. No, scratch that. I know I owe you one."

"What are you talking about?" Her eyes were wide.

"Ten years ago," he began softly, "you came to me, hurting, looking for comfort. And I turned you away. Not only that, I hurt you worse."

"You were right." Her quick response made him sure of what he'd suspected. She remembered. "I shouldn't have been -"

"That doesn't matter," he interrupted. "Giving you a lecture then was the wrong thing to do, with you in that condition. I should have tried to do something for you, not done something to hurt you."

He heard a soft sniffling sound and looked up from his hands. His daughter, he realized, was crying.

"I'm sorry, sir." She started to lift her hand to wipe her tears, but he gently caught it with his own.

"Come here." He opened his arms and slowly pulled her into them. Her arms went around his neck, and he could feel her shaking as she fought her tears. "Just let go, Margaret. Let go."

He wondered how long she'd kept this pain inside as she began sobbing helplessly against him. He pulled her onto the bed so he could hold her.

"I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am." He rubbed her back gently as she wept and clung to him. "There's a lot I never told you."

"What?" she whispered.

He nearly clammed up, but he knew she deserved an answer. "That sometimes I could hear you crying, but I had no idea what to do about it. That a few times while you were asleep I would sneak into your room."

"That was real? I thought I was dreaming. I remember you touching my back." Her red, bloodshot eyes met his.

He remembered too. Stepping up to her bed, gently stroking her back as she cried into her pillow, caught in the grip of a nightmare. He remembered feeling the bones in her back, realizing how much weight she'd lost and knowing he had to do something or he'd lose his child forever. "That was real."

"I remember one night you whispered that it was going to be okay, that you were going to take me away. The next morning you told me we were moving at the end of the week. I thought it was a coincidence."

"I never told you this either, but I asked to be transferred. I specifically asked for Hamilton. I wanted to be as far from Texas as we could get."

"Really?"

"I couldn't stand it anymore. I felt like I was watching you slowly slip away from me. You were starving yourself to death, and you were walking around like you were already dead on the inside, hardly talking to anyone. At first I wasn't sure why, but I heard what people were saying to you, and I saw that every time someone did say something, a little bit of the light left your eyes, and I had to get you away from them. That first day when we were in Hamilton and I took you out to dinner - do you remember?"

"Sort of."

"You ate the entire meal. I didn't let you see it, but after we got home I cried, I was so happy to see you eating again." It wasn't easy for him to say any of this, but he knew she needed to hear it. "Then a few weeks later I saw you smile, and I knew I would be getting you back, and I've never felt so relieved in my whole life. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, I can't lose you." The last confession came out as barely a whisper, but she stared up at him with wide eyes.

"You mean that?"

"Have you ever known me to say anything I didn't mean?"

"Oh, Daddy." She started crying again, and he pulled her close. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, Margaret." It was his last confession, and he couldn't have imagined that it would feel so good to say. "I love you."

She couldn't suppress a fresh flood of tears. She didn't remember him ever saying those three little words to her before. She felt him holding her the way she'd longed her whole life to be held. And she couldn't stop crying. She felt his hand running soothingly up and down her back.

"My Margaret," he whispered. "I've hurt you terribly, haven't I? How can I make it up to you?"

"You don't have to," she sobbed. "I just wanted you to love me."

"I do." He kissed her forehead. "I've always loved you, Margaret. I'm sorry if I haven't shown it."

"I wanted you to be proud of me."

"Margaret." A warm smile lit his face. "How could I not be?"

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"Tell me something, Margaret."

"Of course."

The crying had ceased, and they had elected to continue their conversation over dinner. It was this venue that Alvin had chosen to bring up the question in the back of his mind.

"When I was at the 4077, I found myself the target of a rather pointed lecture from one of your doctors."

"Which one?" she asked resignedly, trying to decide whether to laugh or be embarrassed.

"Do you have to ask?"

"Not really," she admitted. There were only four possibilities to begin with. Knowing her father, he would have referred to Potter as her CO, which ruled him out. Winchester wasn't the type to get confrontational. That left the two Captains, and while there was no guarantee that BJ wouldn't do such a thing, he wasn't the one who had personally hoped never to meet the man for Alvin's own sake. "It _was_ Hawkeye, wasn't it? Captain Pierce," she amended when she saw the confusion in his face.

"It was at that. I'd wonder where he got it from if I hadn't met his father a few months ago."

"What did he want?"

"He was very hard on me. And very complimentary about you. But he knew - things about our relationship -"

"I told him."

"I figured. But why him? He doesn't seem like the type you'd even be able to stand to be in the same room with if you didn't have to."

"Funny, isn't it? That's exactly what I thought of him when I first met him. Doesn't give a damn about authority, doesn't know how to take anything seriously, no sense of order. But once I got to know him - I've never met anyone who cares about people the way he does."

"I don't follow you."

"He doesn't show it around just anyone, but under all the jokes there's the biggest heart in Korea. About four months ago, he almost got himself killed saving my life." She failed to mention that she'd sneaked into the medical files to find this out. No one had told her just how badly Hawkeye had been hurt, but his file told all. He wouldn't have survived more than another couple of days in his condition without water and medical attention. As it was, he'd lost almost twenty pounds between dehydration and lack of food. "And when it was all over, he was worried about crying in front of me because he didn't want me to have to comfort him after everything _I'd_ been through. When he'd been through three times as much to protect me. I guess it goes with being a doctor, but everyone's well-being is more important than his own. He wants to help everyone."

"Except me." There was no barb behind the statement, only a tinge of humor.

"He does have a tendency to get protective of his close friends."

"And he considers you one of them."

"Yes." She looked away from his piercing stare. "And yes, that's _all _it is."

"Margaret, on that note, what on Earth happened with your marriage? One week I get a letter saying you're engaged. Nine weeks later it's married. Four months after _that_ you're getting divorced."

"He wasn't what he pretended to be. I rushed into the whole thing, just out of another relationship, drawn in by his charm and his self-confidence. But as soon as we were married, he changed. It was like he didn't have to win me over anymore so he stopped trying to be nice. He became controlling, selfish. Not to mention he apparently didn't understand the definition of 'keep yourself only unto her'." It was taking her an effort to keep her voice down. "We had one massive fight that didn't end well." _Understatement of the year, but if I tell him what really happened I'll start crying again and we're in public._ "Then when I wanted to patch things up, he got himself permanently transferred to San Francisco instead of facing me. That was when I sent him the papers."

"You never did have much of an example on that front."

"That wasn't it. I guess I thought marriage would solve every problem in my life, so I rushed into it."

"And it just wasn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Instead of fixing my problems, I got stuck with a bunch of new ones. Or rather, one big new one named Donald."

"At least you apparently fixed it yourself."

"You're not upset that I got divorced?"

"It would be hypocritical if I was, wouldn't it?"

"Never quite thought of it that way."

"It sounds like it was a bad situation, and you got out of it without too much trouble."

_That's debatable_. But she didn't say it out loud.

"Under the circumstances, it's the best thing you could've done."

"That means a lot to me."

"When the time's right, I hope to see you married again. But I should know, an unhappy marriage doesn't do anyone any good."

She smiled. "What do you say we get some dessert?"

"I couldn't agree more."

xxxxxxxxx

"Come in!" Margaret looked up briefly from her unpacking to see Hawkeye standing in her doorway. "Oh, it's you."

"How did it go?" He had known she was a little worried about this meeting with her father. He'd been a lot worried.

"Really well."

"Come on."

"Seriously. You might want to sit down for this."

"If you say so." He landed ungracefully on her bed. "What happened?"

"He apologized."

"Seriously."

"Seriously. And I don't just mean for last time either. He apologized for what he said to me all those years ago. _And_ he admitted that he got us transferred to a different base because he was worried about me."

"You're joking."

"No." She shook her head, a broad grin crossing her face. "He said something else, too."

"What?"

"That he loves me." She was nearly glowing now. "He's never said that before."

Hawkeye favored her with a soft look. What would it be like not to be told you were loved for your whole life?

"I think you made an impression on him, too. He asked about you. Wondered how you knew about everything you chewed him out for."

"Did you tell him?"

"Not the details. I just told him that there's a side of you people don't always see, the side that just wants to take care of people. The side that brought you in here tonight," she added, smiling at him.

He grinned, giving her the line he'd said the very first time they'd spoken as friends. "Just don't let it get around."

**This one was really tricky, writing mostly from the POV of a largely unfamiliar character. I hope I got it right.**

**This is loosely based on the episode _Father's Day._**

**Please review.**


	14. Chapter Fourteen: A Long Sleep

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Fourteen: A Long Sleep**_

"Margaret? Margaret."

"Yeah?" she forced her eyes open. "What do you want, Klinger?"

"Major, the session's over. You can go now."

"I hope you're going to bed, Margaret," Potter said from his position on the scrub room bench. "You look like you need some rest."

"Takes one to know one," she said tiredly. The truth was, she had no argument with him. She was exhausted and just wanted to sleep.

She walked out the door and ran right into Hawkeye. "Oh, sorry."

"It's all right. Hey, you want to come have a drink?" It had been a difficult OR session, and they'd lost three patients, two of whom Hawkeye and Margaret had been operating on.

"I appreciate it, but I've got to get some sleep. I may take you up on it later."

"I'll save you one."

She stepped out into the open air, only to suddenly feel her stomach twist. She stepped around to the side of the hospital and doubled over, bringing up what little she'd eaten for the past few hours. She held onto the side of the building, trying to keep from falling over.

She felt an arm slip around her shoulders, holding her up. She finished and stood up slowly. "I'm okay."

"No, you're not." Hawkeye spoke softly in her ear. He pressed a hand to her forehead. "Margaret, you're burning up. How long have you been sick?"

"I've been tired all day. Or however many days it's been since I last slept. I've been aching for awhile. I guess I didn't really notice." She leaned wearily against him. "Just let me go to bed, Hawkeye, please."

The next thing she knew, Hawkeye had lifted her into his arms. "I can do better than that."

She shivered, burrowing closer into his warmth. "I'm cold." She didn't have the strength to worry about her dignity.

She heard the door of her tent open and then Hawkeye's arms were exchanged for her mattress. It felt so good to lie down, but she was sorry to lose the comfort of his touch.

"Where do you keep your sleepwear?"

She gestured limply. Then she felt hands undressing her. Her uniform pants were slid off and pajama pants were slid on. He slipped off her jacket and shirt, and then she felt him hesitate.

"Margaret -"

"S'ok. I trust you. Anyway, you've seen it all."

He rolled her over and took off her bra, keeping his eyes averted as much as possible and hurrying her shirt onto her to protect her modesty. She continued to shiver, so he piled blankets on top of her.

"Can you take care of yourself for a minute? I want to get my bag so I can check you out."

"Okay," she whispered miserably.

"I won't be long." She heard the door open and shut, and then in so little time he must have sprinted all the way there and back, it opened again. She felt him pull back the blanket and place a stethoscope on her stomach.

"What's the prognosis?" she asked, barely awake, when he'd finished.

"The prognosis is you need to start taking better care of yourself." His words were tempered by a soft tone. "You've had some sort of respiratory infection for awhile, it looks like, and thanks to leaving it untreated you've developed pneumonia."

She did remember coughing a lot, but she'd thought it was just a reaction to the weather. "I didn't realize -"

"Next time, err on the side of caution, okay?" His fingers ran through her hair. "For now, just rest."

"Okay." That wouldn't be hard. Now that she was letting herself feel, she felt terrible, and she was so incredibly tired. With Hawkeye still comforting her, she fell asleep.

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"This sounded important." As soon as the Colonel had woken, Klinger had told him Hawkeye needed to meet with him. The Captain was refusing to take no for an answer.

"It is. Margaret's sick."

"How sick is sick?" The look on Hawkeye's face suggested it wasn't good.

"Pneumonia. Her fever's up to 101."

"Where is she now?"

"Her tent, asleep. Looks like she had some sort of respiratory infection that caused this. You might want to check out the rest of the staff."

"Will do. Maybe we ought to move her to post-op?"

"The infection could still be contagious. I'd rather keep her isolated. I don't have a problem with paying 'tent calls'."

"You're the doctor." Potter might have objected that someone that sick needed constant supervision, but he didn't really think his Chief Surgeon would just be paying her an occasional call. It wouldn't be typical of Dr. Pierce's behavior towards his patients, and it wouldn't be typical of Hawkeye's behavior towards a woman the older man knew he considered one of his best friends. No, Hawkeye would be in that tent round-the-clock, he had no doubt of that.

xxxxxxxxx

Margaret rolled over slowly. She was exhausted, but she was too hot to sleep. She'd already kicked off all the blankets Hawkeye had piled on her, and he'd had the foresight to put her in a lightweight pair of pajamas, but she still felt like she was under a boiling hot sun.

The door creaked open and rapped shut. "You awake?" Hawkeye's soft voice asked near her ear.

"So hot," she moaned. She didn't have the strength or the breath to say more.

A soft hand moved across her neck, brushing her hair aside, and then she felt a cool towel pressed to the back of her neck. She sighed in relief at the wonderful coolness as Hawkeye turned her head and began bathing her face with the towel.

"I _really_ don't feel good," she said softly.

"I imagine you don't. Your fever's up another degree."

"Thirsty."

Hawkeye lifted the cup of juice he'd grabbed from the mess tent and carefully slipped the straw between her lips, helping her adjust her position so she could drink more easily.

"Go back to sleep," he instructed softly when she was done.

"I can't. I'm too hot. Talk to me."

"About what?"

"I don't know. Something cold."

"Have you ever been to Maine or Vermont or that area during the winter?"

"No."

"You've missed out on a lot. There's nothing quite like a snowstorm up there. There have been years we couldn't get out of our house for a day or two because the snow around the doors was so deep..."

Margaret could picture every word he described. The cloud of white enveloping the house so thickly you couldn't see two feet out any window. The snow piled so high that people would sink in knee-high and parents had to carry their kids. Hawkeye's laughter melded with his words as he described how his mother had started bringing his sled into the house when he got too heavy to lift so she could pull him across the snow as if he were riding in a chariot. The games the children would play, knowing they had as much snow as they could ever want to do with as they pleased. She wasn't entirely sure when she fell asleep, but her dreams were filled with sleds and snow-covered trees.

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"No! Stop it! Stop!"

Hawkeye jerked awake from the chair he'd been dozing in when he heard Margaret scream. His first thought was a medical emergency, but a visual check confirmed that wasn't the case. She was, however, twisting in her sleep, and tears streaked her face.

"Please, no!"

He couldn't take it anymore. He hurried to her side. "Margaret?"

"No! Please don't!"

His heart ached when he realized what she was dreaming about. "Margaret, it's Hawkeye." He carefully gathered her into his arms. "It's Hawkeye. No one's going to hurt you, Margaret." He began rubbing her back and she relaxed into his arms. "That's it, Margaret. You just rest. I'll keep you safe."

Despite the fact that she was still burning up, she was drenched in a cold sweat. Hawkeye knew what she'd been through and he knew how much it hurt, and he hated that she was having to relive it in her delirium. He rocked her in his arms, trying to soothe her, trying to keep her safe.

He laid her back on the bed and joined her, fully clothed, barely remembering to take off his boots. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around her, as though he could somehow protect her from the demons in her mind.

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"How is she?"

"Her fever's up another point two. She still hasn't given any indication that she's coherent or aware of her surroundings."

Margaret had been caught in a delirious sleep for four days now, her fever steady or climbing. Hawkeye ached for her every time she cried out, pleading with foes only she could see to stop and leave her alone, knowing that she was reliving that awful experience and helpless to do anything but hold her through the nightmares. The first time she'd cried out Donald's name, pleading with the man she'd once called her husband just as she did with those other monsters, he'd had to step outside and throw up. He wondered if she knew he was even there.

"Are you sure we shouldn't move her into post-op?" He knew he'd asked before, but he had to ask again.

"There's nothing I could do for her here. And if she wakes up, she'll be humiliated to have had those nightmares in a place like post-op. She'd feel exposed. And before you ask, I've checked. There's nothing the 121st could do that I can't."

"If?"

Hawkeye's eyes fixed on the older man, and he could see the helplessness there. "She's not getting any better, even with everything I've been putting into her system. Right now - there are no guarantees." His head dropped as he said that last, but not before Potter saw the tears sliding down his face.

"Easy, son. She's a Houlihan. They don't make them tougher than that." He tentatively reached out to Hawkeye, and when the man didn't resist gave him a gentle hug. "I know this isn't easy, son. She's one of your best friends, and I'd be worried if it _didn't_ hurt you to see her in pain. But you have to count on her. She's strong enough to pull through this."

"But she doesn't look strong," he whispered brokenly. "She looks so frail, so sick."

"I know. But you know she'll keep fighting." He gently patted Hawkeye's back. "Pierce, you're exhausted. Go sack out for awhile."

"I can't. I have to stay with Margaret."

"Pierce - Hawkeye, you're not the only one who cares about Margaret. I'll personally sit with her while you rest." At Hawkeye's uncertain look, he continued. "I care about Margaret, but I care about you too, and right now you're killing yourself to try and save her. Get something to eat and then go to bed for a minimum of six hours. That's an order."

Hawkeye had disobeyed orders before, but his personal respect for the man meant he wasn't inclined to in this case. "Colonel, you should know she's been having some pretty awful nightmares. Screaming, crying, talking in her sleep, the works."

"What do you do when she does?"

"Just talk to her, let her know she's safe. Physical contact helps too, but don't touch her without talking to her first or she may not recognize you and that just makes it all worse."

"Thanks for the heads-up. Now _go_, Pierce."

He entered Margaret's tent and sat down next to her. She was sleeping quietly for the moment, albeit shivering violently. Hawkeye had left the many blankets she alternately needed and refused lying nearby, and he hurried to cover her with them.

He'd tried to keep a positive outlook for Hawkeye's sake, but the truth was Hawkeye had understood the reality of the situation. Margaret was _very_ sick. He gently touched her hair. "Come on, Margaret. You have to stay strong. You have to pull through this, for all our sakes. Hawkeye would be devastated if you didn't..."

He talked for hours, naming off everyone who would miss her or be hurt, and the names melded in his mind or voice with stories and he was reminding her of everything she'd done in his time at the 4077, and then he was telling her stories of his own experiences, not aware of where he was going, just talking and talking and intermittently reminding her of how important it was that she not give up.

As Hawkeye had warned him she might, she began to twist and cry in her sleep. "No, no, stop it, no!"

"Margaret?" He remembered the younger man's warning well.

"No, no, no more. Please, no more. Please, it hurts so much."

Was she in pain? He wasn't sure what was real or imagined with her anymore.

"No, no, I don't want it, I don't!"

The last cry turned him to ice. Coupled together with everything else she'd said, and everything he knew about her, the pieces fit together, forming a horrible picture. "Margaret," he whispered in a choked voice. Slowly, he reached out to her, taking her too-warm hand in his. "Margaret, it's Colonel Potter. No one's going to hurt you. I promise you, Margaret. I promise." He used his free hand to stroke her hair. "Oh, Margaret. What secrets have you been keeping?"

xxxxxxxxx

"You look better."

"I feel better," he admitted. "How's Margaret?"

"No change. Pierce, can I talk to you for a second?"

"About Margaret?" He couldn't imagine what else the man would have to say that he couldn't have said seven hours ago.

"You were right about the nightmares," he began. "I was wondering what - I mean, how much have you gathered -"

"You're not making sense. What is it you're trying to say without saying it?"

"I need your word that you'll keep your mouth shut about this. I'm not even sure Margaret herself needs to be told."

"You have it. Told _what_?"

"Some of what she said while she was dreaming leads me to believe she may have been sexually assaulted at some point." He definitely noticed Hawkeye's lack of reaction. "That doesn't bother you?"

"It just doesn't surprise me."

"You drew the same conclusions?"

He looked around. "You know that promise you made me give you?"

"I won't say anything."

"You've drawn the right conclusion."

"It didn't happen under my nose, did it?" He was understandably concerned that he might have let something so significant happen to one of his officers without even noticing.

"No. It happened about eleven years ago."

"But she's only -" he stopped short when he saw the look in Hawkeye's eyes. His Chief Surgeon knew exactly how old Margaret was, and how old she would have been at the time. "How do you know?"

Hawkeye peered into the tent, making sure Margaret didn't need anything from him, before he began the rather long tale. "I guess you could say it starts with me doing something stupid. Don't worry, it's nothing like that," he added before Potter could get upset or angry. "I wasn't directly responsible for what happened, though I was responsible. This happened back when Henry Blake was in charge, if you can call it that. We had a Private here awhile back, Danny Baker, who kept going AWOL. It didn't take much prompting to figure out the cause. He was self-conscious. He had a nose that made Klinger's look average-sized, if you can believe that, and he'd had no luck getting a nose job. We decided it might be best to intervene on that front, and as it happens, I had a passing friendship with Major Stanley Robbins."

"The plastic surgeon? The one who got busted down to Captain?"

"Did he?" Hawkeye didn't look too upset about this fact, Potter noticed. "I hadn't heard. Anyway, he was quite taken with Margaret. I didn't think much of it. It's no sin to stare at a woman, after all. We set up the operation, but as you're probably aware we weren't supposed to be doing it, and Margaret, like Frank, was a huge stickler for rules, so we had an announcement made asking her to report to Supply. I can't remember where we sent Frank. Anyway, we paged Robbins but he didn't show, so we had to go looking for him. I heard someone screaming in Supply and hurried in to find him holding her backwards against a table. He hadn't gotten her clothing off or anything, but it was pretty clear what he was aiming for. I dragged him out of the tent, and he did the operation. Meanwhile, I made a few pointed phone calls, let the guys at his home base know just what he'd done. Then I went to check on Margaret. He'd really shaken her up, and with a little coaxing she told me what had happened."

"Wait a minute. How on Earth does what you just told me translate to you being responsible?"

"I'm the one who suggested Robbins, I'm the one who called him, and I'm the one who convinced him to come."

"All you did was trust an old friend. Remember Colonel Beckett?"

"The guy who got a bunch of his men killed?"

"He was my friend. I trusted him."

"You didn't send him into combat, you didn't actually put him in a position to get those men killed."

"And you had no way of knowing what your friend was capable of. Don't blame yourself. It sounds to me like you did the best you could."

"It was the first time we'd ever really just talked. If you thought we were adversarial when you met us, you should have seen us before that night. It was like it never occurred to me that she might have feelings. She never showed them." Hawkeye was talking fast now, probably just needing to get all this out, Potter thought. "And God only knows what she thought of me. That first night, she cried all over me, and I realized everything that stoic major persona was hiding."

"And she realized there's a side to you besides the joker."

"In a nutshell."

"And she still relives something that happened eleven years ago?"

Hawkeye swallowed back a lump in his throat before he responded. "I think that when you go through something like that, it stays with a person forever." _I know it will. You can't forget something like that._ "Anyway, Margaret didn't deal with it for a long time. She just buried it and tried to act like it had never happened."

"Until you came along."

"She told me later that no one had ever invited her to open up like that."

"Sounds like you were exactly what she needed." He couldn't fail to notice that Hawkeye's eyes darted to her tent door every few seconds. "Go on, son. Take your post."

xxxxxxxxx

"Pierce, where are you going?"

"Do you have to ask?"

Hawkeye barely noticed the chatter from Winchester and BJ. In fact, it took him a moment to realize that the former had addressed him.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"We've just completed twenty straight hours of surgery. You can't be serious about doing more work now."

"I can catch a nap in her tent. I've left her under the eyes of a nurse for the last twenty hours."

"So what harm would be done by leaving her a few more hours?" Unexpectedly, BJ took Charles' side. "Hawk, you're dead on your feet."

"So I'll sit down." He stumbled wearily towards the Head Nurse's tent. "How is she, Baker?"

"No change."

Hawkeye shook his head sadly. That phrase had come to describe her over the past eighteen days. Not getting worse, but not getting better. She still hadn't regained full consciousness.

She started thrashing and crying in her sleep again, clinging to Hawkeye like she did when it got really bad. He cradled her in his arms, lying down next to her as he had so many times over the past few weeks.

He sighed as she relaxed. He could barely keep his eyes open. Surely it couldn't hurt to close them for just a few minutes...

He woke sharply. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, he was just so tired. By the change in the outside light, he could tell he'd been out for a while - wait, why was he all wet?

He reached over to check Margaret. She was even more drenched than he was. He brushed her wet hair out of her face, gently stroking her cheek, only to stop abruptly. Her face was _cool_.

It all clicked suddenly, and he laughed with pure joy. "Margaret -" he was too emotional to say more, and she wasn't awake to hear him anyway. He lifted her from the bed and propped her up in a chair while he figured out where she kept her sheets. He changed the bed and then her pajamas before laying her gently back on it. As he did, she stirred slightly.

The light stabbed at her eyes as she tried to open them. She moaned and turned her head, trying to block it out. She couldn't understand why she felt so weak. At least she didn't feel hot or cold anymore.

She blinked her eyes open again and tried to sit up. The world started spinning and she slumped back on her pillows. Then she heard movement.

"Margaret?"

"Hawkeye? So thirsty."

She felt a hand behind her head, propping her up, and a cup pressed to her lips. She gulped at it, but he only allowed her small sips. "Easy, Margaret, you'll make yourself throw up."

"How long was I asleep?" Her voice flowed smoother now. "Felt like a long time. I had the most awful dreams."

"Margaret -"

"It was dark when I went to sleep, now it's light. It must have been awhile."

"Margaret," his voice cracked. "Margaret, it's been almost three weeks."

"Three _weeks_?"

"You've been very sick. I thought for awhile I was going to lose you." She felt a light splash on her face and realized he was crying.

"Hawkeye..."

"Shh, don't strain yourself. You're still recovering."

"I'm so tired. I've slept for three weeks, and I'm so tired."

"I know. Rest."

She felt him press a kiss to her forehead as he lowered her back to his pillow. She felt him start to draw up her blankets, but she was asleep before he'd covered her.

xxxxxxxxx

"Colonel!"

Hawkeye had tears running down his face, but the grin on his face belied his crying. "Good news?"

"She's going to be okay. Her fever's broken, and she came to for awhile."

His shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank God. How is she now?"

"Sleeping again, but it's a real sleep, not that awful half-sleep she's been in."

"When can I talk to her?"

"I'll let you know."

**This sort of came out of nowhere. What did you think?**

**Please review.**


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Exhuming the Past

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Fifteen: Exhuming the Past**_

Margaret was sitting up in bed when Potter walked in. He just looked at her for a long moment. There was real color in a face that had been white for so long.

"How do you feel, Margaret?"

"Better, sir. Still tired."

"You had us worried for awhile there." He sat down next to her bed. "It's good to see you up again."

"Colonel, stop it."

"What?"

"Hawkeye told me what he told you, and I know you're trying _not_ to talk about it. It's all right, sir."

"How many people know?" he asked gently.

"It depends. Everyone on the base _knew_. I made the mistake of trying to report it to the MPs. By the end of the day everyone knew who I was and who I'd reported. That was all it accomplished."

"Margaret -" He took her hand. "Who was in command of the base?" She just looked at him. He sighed and shook his head. "I was afraid of that."

"He's apologized since."

"Did I ever tell you how I got sent out here?"

"No." She wasn't sure how that was relevant, but she had to admit she was curious now that he'd brought it up. "I know you'd been working as an administrator for awhile. I guess I figured you'd asked for this front line duty."

He shook his head. "Something similar happened in the hospital I was serving at. She was a young nurse, a Second Lieutenant, and she'd been assaulted by one of the doctors."

"A _doctor_?" she repeated, appalled.

Potter nodded sadly. "I called her into my office because her performance had slipped dramatically. Within a minute, I knew there was some sort of serious problem causing this change. In another two, I'd convinced her to tell me. She hadn't planned to say anything because she was afraid that what happened to you would happen to her. I set her straight. I told her to report it and I'd stand behind her. Unfortunately, the doctor was also the nephew of a general. The man tried to threaten her into dropping the charges, but as I said I stood up for her and called in a few favors of my own to make sure he was brought to trial. He was convicted, and I was able to get her transferred to another hospital before the General transferred me out here. There were all kinds of official reasons, but I know why he really did it. He was getting back at me."

"Do you ever regret what you did?"

"Not for a second. That poor girl deserved as much. Everyone who goes through something like that deserves as much." He stroked the hand he still held with his thumb. "It's a damn shame most of them don't get it."

She knew what he was really saying. "I try not to think about it most of the time. At least," she corrected herself, "that's how I used to do it."

"And now?"

"Now it doesn't hurt so much anymore. Maybe Hawkeye was right that I needed to feel the pain before I could let it go. Once in a while it gets really bad, and then I just wait until I can catch Hawkeye alone and ask him to meet me somewhere. He's really good about it, too. I happen to know he once stood up one of my nurses to comfort me." _And I'd do the same for him_, she added silently, aware that Hawkeye hadn't disclosed his own side of the story to the Colonel. "I can't really remember why I ever disliked him. No, that's not quite true. It's more like there are two of him."

"I hope not," Potter quipped. "We've got enough trouble with just one."

"Well, only one of them is the trouble. That's just it. There's the Hawkeye we all know, the one who chases nurses and gets drunk and pulls stupid pranks and steps over as many lines as he can. If you only knew him casually, you'd think that's all there is to him. But then there's the Hawkeye who would drop everything and come to the tent of a woman who claimed to hate him because something bad almost happened to her and he knows she's upset, who would hold her while she cried even though that same afternoon she'd been trying to get him in trouble."

"You were?"

"I was trying to figure out who he'd operated on so I could bust him for it," she admitted. "I figured it out a few days later, but by then I was grateful enough to him for taking care of me that I didn't tell anyone. Anyway, that's the same man who let me cry to him about Donald and everything else that was bothering me, who let himself be tortured almost to death to protect me, and who if I'm not mistaken sat here for three straight weeks while I was sick."

"I threw him out once," Potter admitted. "He needed to get some real sleep. Told him he wasn't allowed back in until he'd sacked out for six hours minimum."

"I heard him, you know. And you. Talking to me, telling me to hold on. Even when it hurt and I was scared, I kept hearing your voices and they wouldn't let me give up."

"I'm glad you didn't." His voice was thick with emotion. "You really had us scared."

"How sick was I?"

"Your fever got up to 103.5. You didn't ever wake up, just stayed in some kind of half sleep. Your breathing was getting labored too, on and off for pretty much the whole time. Pierce was seriously worried. I've never seen him cry before."

"He cried for me?" She knew he'd cried after seeing her awake, but to hear that he'd shown that level of despair while she was sick shocked her. Though, she thought, maybe it shouldn't have.

"Tried to hide it but I saw the tears. Right before I sent him to bed."

"You didn't!"

"What?"

"Throw him out when he was that upset."

"He was dead on his feet."

"Colonel, can I get back at Hawkeye for telling you my personal business without consulting me?"

He grinned, understanding what she meant. "Why not?"

"Colonel, I don't think that was a good idea. Hawkeye clings very tightly to the people he's closest to, and he likes to know what's going on with them. I probably shouldn't exactly be telling you this, but his mother died from a sudden illness when he was a child. His father tried to shield him from the truth and didn't tell him how serious her condition was until she was dead."

"I - I didn't know."

"I'm probably the only one in this camp who knows. But I think shutting him out, even for his own health, may have just hurt him worse. If I had to name his worst fear, it's probably losing someone he cares about and not being able to do anything about it. He probably felt like you were leaving him out in the cold about my condition."

"I'll talk to him. Apologize if necessary. Thank you for telling me."

"Colonel?"

"Yes?"

"Thank _you_ for telling me about - how you got sent out here. I'm glad to know something more about you. And if it's possible, I respect you even more than I ever did."

He gently embraced her. "My dear Margaret. What else could I have done?"

She remembered being on the other side of this equation, and remembered what she'd been told. "Only a good, caring person would ask that question."

xxxxxxxxx

"Pierce, can I have a word with you?"

"Sure."

He gestured towards his office. "A _private_ word?"

"Um, all right." He followed the Colonel into his office.

"I've been speaking with Margaret. She asked to - how did she put it? - get back at you for telling me her personal business without consulting her."

Hawkeye almost froze. "She did?" He hoped to God his distress didn't show on his face.

"Don't be upset with her, son. She was worried about you, worried that I'd inadvertently hurt you."

"What did she tell you?" He tried to force neutrality into his voice.

"She told me about your mother." Hawkeye relaxed instantly, but if the Colonel noticed he didn't comment. "She told me your father didn't tell you she was dying until she was gone."

His eyes were suspiciously bright when he replied. "He didn't."

"She thought you might have been upset when I threw you out. That you may have felt like I was trying to shut you out. I want you to understand that that wasn't what I meant to do. I was worried about you, and I think I may have hurt you while I was trying to help you in spite of yourself."

"I _was_ worried," he admitted. "Charles had to talk to me for almost an hour before I could sleep."

"Winchester?"

He colored slightly when he realized he'd given away a small secret. "Charles knows about my mother."

"He does?" Potter looked absolutely shocked, and Hawkeye didn't blame him. Charles wasn't really the man anyone would expect to know people's private business.

"He overheard me talking on the phone about my dad needing an operation. He actually showed a little humanity and sat with me while I sat waiting for the phone to ring. I don't exactly remember _why_, but I ended up telling the whole story about my mom and how I was afraid my dad was doing the same thing all over again by not actually telling me what he needed surgery for. So he understood where some of my fears were coming from."

"I'm sorry I didn't. The last thing I wanted was to make things harder for you."

"You didn't know. I never said anything."

"There's a lot I don't know about you, isn't there?" He eyed Hawkeye critically. "You don't really say much."

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong. Heaven knows you talk a lot. But you don't _say_ anything. Sometimes I think I don't know much about you at all. I mean, I know the basics. I know where you're from and all. But anything personal I know about you I know from being around you. Don't you trust me, Hawkeye?"

"It's not about trust. I don't tell anyone these things."

"Why not?"

"I - I don't know, exactly. I've never really talked about the things that happen to me. Maybe it's easier to pass everything off as a bunch of jokes than to talk about what actually happened in my life."

"Why?"

"If I can pretend to everyone else that nothing is wrong, maybe I can make myself believe it." He sank into a chair. "I want to help other people, not make people help me. I know I'm luckier than most."

"How do you figure that?"

"Talking to Margaret and Charles about their families, I realize that what I have with my dad and had with my mom is really rare, and very special. No one here talks as much about their parents as I do about my dad, except Radar did and Klinger used to pretend one or more of them had died recently." He couldn't suppress a laugh, and Potter chuckled with him. "I grew up in what I still think is the most beautiful place in the world. Other than losing my mother and that one incident with my cousin," he knew Potter knew what he meant, "nothing really bad ever happened to me."

"Until you came here."

"Well, yeah."

"Hawkeye, you've been here longer than anyone. Granted, you only beat Margaret by a week, but still. She, Klinger, and Mulcahy are the only people who even come close. That has to take its toll on you."

"I didn't cry," he said softly.

"What?"

"For the first five months, I didn't cry. Even with everything I saw."

"What changed?" That he knew the months meant he _had_ cried, Potter knew.

"One of my best friends from childhood showed up in camp. Pulled this elaborate gag on me, too, and kissed your predecessor right on the mouth. You should've seen old Henry's face. Went off with his regiment and came back a few hours later. On a stretcher. They barely got him under before -" Hawkeye choked hard.

"I'm sorry, son. That must have been rough."

"First time I cried. I couldn't understand it. Not why I was crying. Why I was crying that one time, and I'd never cried for any of the other kids who died in there."

"Hawkeye, I know it's hard. But there are two rules in a war."

He looked up with a tiny glint of amusement in his eye. "Henry told me the same thing. Rule number one is young men die."

"And rule number two," Potter finished, "is that doctors can't change rule number one."

"That really is something they teach you COs. Ironic, isn't it?"

"What?"

"He wasn't even 45 years old himself."

"That must have been difficult for all of you." He still wanted to convince Hawkeye to talk to him.

"It was hardest on Radar. He really loved Henry like his own father."

"What did you do, Hawkeye?"

"What?"

This was well out of the realm of his expertise, but in for a penny, as the saying went. "That first day. What did you do?"

_It was a still shell-shocked group that stumbled out of the OR. Tears flowed down more than a few faces. Radar's awful words ran through all their minds._

Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake's plane was shot down over the sea of Japan. It spun in. There were no survivors.

There were no survivors.

There were no survivors.

_"Hey, Trap."_

_His friend's face was streaked with tears, and his brown eyes were bloodshot. "Yeah?"_

_"Where's Radar?"_

_"Don't know." He sounded too miserable to care._

_He laid his hand on the other doctor's shoulder. "Go on back to the Swamp. You look like you need a drink."_

_"Or five. You coming, Hawk?"_

_"Not yet. I have to check on him. Save me some, won't you?"_

_He walked into the outer office. Radar was sitting on his bunk, clinging to his teddy bear. He didn't even look up when the door opened._

_"Radar?"_

_The young corporal lifted tear-filled eyes, noticing Hawkeye for the first time. "I can't believe he's gone."_

_He sat down next to his friend. "Come here."_

_Radar fell into his side, sobbing. One hand clung stubbornly to his teddy bear. The other grabbed hold of the white shirt Hawkeye still wore. The doctor wrapped his arms around Radar, holding him close._

_"I know it hurts, Radar. I know, I know." He rocked his friend gently. The young man was still shaking with tears._

_"Henry - Henry." He couldn't say more than that one word, whispered brokenheartedly over and over again. Loud sobs tore through from his throat as Hawkeye held him and rubbed his back._

_After a few minutes, Hawkeye noticed that Radar had gone silent. The young man was breathing deeply, having cried himself to sleep. Hawkeye laid him in his bed, drawing the blankets up over him._

_He stepped out of the office. The camp was eerily silent. No one, it seemed, felt like doing much of anything tonight._

_He rapped on the door to the nurses' tent. A faint "come in" answered him and he stepped in._

_"What do you want, Hawkeye?" one asked tiredly._

_"Is everyone okay in here?" His voice held no trace of the flirtatious tone he usually used when speaking to them. He could see that Ginger Bayliss was being held up by an uncomfortable-looking Mary Larson and that Helen Able was sobbing loudly. Susan Baker was staring into space, not even noticing them. Kellye Nakahara, who had spoken, was watching him with silent tears running down her face._

_Without needing an answer to his question, he stepped into action. He relieved Mary of a shaking Ginger, easing the woman down onto her cot and whispering what comfort he could manage. He rubbed Helen's back until she calmed down. He held Susan's hand as she came back from wherever she'd been. He gave Kellye a gentle pat on the shoulder and offered her a handkerchief._

_"You girls need anything, come find me." He stepped out of the tent and continued making his self-appointed rounds._

_Klinger was passed out on his cot, wearing the same black dress and veil that Hawkeye remembered him using in one of his many Section 8 dodges. Some member or other of his family dying. If only this were nothing more than a dodge, a joke, a lie._

_He wasn't sure where Klinger had gotten the wine, but a bottle he suspected had been full was now all but empty. The cross-dressing corporal would have one hell of a hangover tomorrow. Then again, so would half the camp._

_He peeked into Father Mulcahy's tent, but seeing the man kneeling in silent prayer decided against bothering him. He had started walking back to the Swamp when a shout broke the silence._

_"What the hell are you doing?"_

_He couldn't hear the response, but he figured there had been one because he heard the same voice about a minute later. "You insensitive _jerk_!"_

_"Margaret." It hadn't even occurred to him to check on her. He'd figured she'd go to a certain someone else for comfort. However, he doubted he'd need three guesses to figure out the identity of the insensitive jerk in question._

_He doubled back, arriving in front of her tent just as she stormed up and stopped short. "What are you doing here?"_

_He nodded towards the inside of her tent, and she nodded. They stepped in, and she looked at him sharply. "So?"_

_"I could hear you yelling at Frank across the compound. What was he doing this time?"_

_"Moving his things into H-Henry's tent." He could see the tears on her face in the dim light._

_"He what?"_

_"He j-just wants to take command. He d-doesn't care about Henry or any of it." With those words, she doubled over, sobbing._

_Hawkeye took her firmly by the shoulders and steered her to her cot. He sat her down and joined her, wrapping his arms tight around her shoulders. "Forget Frank."_

_She whimpered and buried her face more deeply in his shoulder. "Hawkeye -"_

_She barely ever called him that. That she used it now meant she wanted to talk to him as a friend, he knew. But she barely seemed able to talk at all. "Just cry it out, Margaret."_

_"I never told him," she whimpered._

_"Never told him what?"_

_"Anything!" she sobbed. "I only told him when I was mad at him. I thought he was an awful administrator."_

_"He was," Hawkeye quipped softly._

_"B-but he was a good doctor. I never told him any of the things I thought were good about him, only the things I didn't like."_

_"I'm sure he understood." He wasn't just saying that either. Henry was bumbling and often caught out of his element, but Hawkeye knew he'd often seen more than he acted like he did. Frank he might have genuinely disliked, but there was a reason he'd repeatedly talked Margaret out of leaving the 4077. In all likelihood, Henry _had_ understood. At the very least, he'd appreciated her._

_It was a mark of how upset she was that she let him comfort her for several minutes before pulling away. "This is embarrassing."_

_He'd heard enough about the time she and Trapper had been stuck in the supply tent to know what she meant. "This once, don't think of me as a Captain. Think of me as a friend. You gonna be all right?"_

_She nodded, still red-eyed. "Would you leave me alone for awhile?"_

_"All right, but you know where to find me."_

_He headed back for the Swamp. Frank's area was slightly trashed, and he suspected Trapper had had his own version of Margaret's fight with Frank. The older doctor sat on his cot, staring into a glass._

_"I think it's aged enough, Trap." He wasn't sure what had made him say that except that he had to break the silence somehow. _

_The man raised a tearstained face. "He was going home, Hawk."_

_"I know."_

_"He'll never see his wife or kids again - they're gonna get that telegram -"_

_"Yeah." Hawkeye had been so worried about the camp he realized he hadn't even thought about Henry's family back in Bloomington. _

_"His girls are the same age as mine, you know? Six and eight. Becky's gonna be nine next week, though."_

_He had been aware of that. Henry's sons were younger, though, four and an infant. He wondered where the man's rambling was going._

_"What if it's them next? My wife, getting that damn telegram saying - saying -" He choked and began to cry._

_"Oh, Trap." He sat down on his bunkmate's cot and let his friend cry on his shoulder. He should have realized. Trapper for all his womanizing ways loved his wife and was absolutely devoted to his two daughters. He wished he could give the man some reassurance, but he'd given Henry a hundred reassurances like that, and it hadn't changed anything._

"He fell asleep, I drank until I passed out. Trapper and I organized a memorial the next day, and then we started trying to get back to normal, even though everyone was still down in the dumps. I kept trying to help everyone. Margaret was thankful enough that she somehow persuaded Frank to sign on for some R&R for me."

"But you never really grieved for him, did you son?" Potter didn't begrudge his unit their former CO. He knew that as much as they all loved him, Henry held a special place in the hearts of everyone who had served with him.

"Someone had to be strong for the camp," he said softly. "Trapper was a lot worse off than I was, and Frank sure wasn't going to reach out to anyone."

"So you helped everyone. And you didn't let anyone help you."

"Right."

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did." He grinned. "Yeah, go ahead."

"What exactly did happen with your friend and Margaret in the supply tent?"

"We were getting shelled and the door jammed shut. Trapper went to help her get it open, but once they were inside, it shut and jammed again. They were in there for maybe an hour before anyone realized they were missing; it was kind of chaotic. Shelling will do that, you know. From what Trapper told me, she panicked and started crying, and then was embarrassed because she outranked him. Of course, that's nothing compared to what happened when Frank and I went in there to get them out."

"Oh? What happened?"

"Well, they'd managed to fall asleep together, kind of cuddled up. It was actually pretty cute. Unfortunately, Frank got the wrong idea, and she was so flustered she barely got out a sentence that didn't make sense anyway." He was laughing his head off just remembering. "Something about 196 degrees. I think it had to do with sharing body heat - though it wasn't really that cold. Trapper never needed a reason."

He wasn't sure when it happened exactly, but his laughter turned to tears, and suddenly he was sobbing. Potter stood in front of him, watching in concern. "What is it, Hawkeye?"

"_Henry._" The one strained word tore free from his throat as he wept. The old Colonel came out from behind his desk, laying a hand on Hawkeye's back.

"Let it out, son."

He didn't know how long they stayed there, Hawkeye crying into his hands while Potter rubbed his back in an attempt to comfort him as he finally grieved for his friend's death more than a year later. Finally, he sat up and wiped his face.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly.

"Don't be." He sat down across from his Chief Surgeon so they were closer to eye level. "I know it's in your nature to help people. But there's nothing wrong with letting yourself hurt too."

"Thanks, Colonel. I appreciate that."

**This was originally supposed to be a shorter chapter than the last one, but my pet plot bunny had other ideas. This chapter references the episodes _Sons and Bowlers_, _Sometimes You Hear the Bullet_, _Abyssinia, Henry_ and _Bombed_.**

**The idea about Colonel Potter's "reassignment" was a completely spur of the moment thing. For that matter, so was the whole chapter. It will become important, though. Really.**

**I took a small liberty in saying that Henry had two sons. It just isn't possible for the same son born while they were in Korea to be playing the trombone when Henry leaves, so I decided to reconcile that by saying that Andrew and the baby are different boys.  
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**I always saw Hawkeye as the kind of person who would put everyone else's needs before his own, which is where the second half of this chapter came from. I liked the idea of him finally opening up to his sort of father figure.**

**Please review.**


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Best Forgotten

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Sixteen: Best Forgotten**_

"You look awful. No offense."

"If we were short two doctors instead of two nurses, so would you," she said without any real bite. Thanks to a snafu with some personnel transfers, the nursing staff was down to Able, Baker, and Kellye, and so they and Margaret had all had to pull nearly double. They'd done it admirably too, but all the same, "I'll be glad when those new nurses show up."

"When are they expected?" Hawkeye slid the white shirt over his head, tossing it into the bin.

"Yesterday, but there was too much shelling on the road and they got stuck in Seoul. They're supposed to be leaving first thing tomorrow, which means they'll be here by mid-morning if all goes well. And it won't be a moment too soon."

"You can say that again." A 1:1 ratio between the doctors and nurses had been stressful for everyone in OR. For the first time Hawkeye remembered since the flu epidemic back in 1950, they'd had to call in some non-medical personnel to assist in OR. Fortunately, Klinger for one handled the sight of blood far better than his predecessor, but it wasn't an ideal situation by any means. "Go sack out, Margaret."

"Believe me, I will. And Hawkeye?"

"Yeah?"

"Give the new girls a day or two to get settled in before you start making passes, will you?"

His grin was her only answer."

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The jeep driver was grinning as he pulled in. "Why can't they give me loads like this more often?"

Three women climbed out of the jeep after him. Margaret was there to meet them, and she didn't waste time after introductions. "I can't tell you how glad I am to have you girls here. We've been running shorthanded for awhile, so I'm putting you right to work."

"Of course, Major," one said respectfully.

"Come on, I'll show you around." She yelled for someone to take the women's bags to their tent, then led them to post-op, only to narrowly miss being hit by a door swinging out.

"Oh, sorry."

"That's all right. Doctor Pierce, the new nurses. Second Lieutenant Patricia Jennings."

"A pleasure, doctor."

He raised his eyebrows suggestively, but to his credit said nothing beyond, "the pleasure is all mine."

"Second Lieutenant Anna Peterson."

"Captain."

"Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant."

"And First Lieutenant Janice Monroe."

"Ah, Captain. It's lovely to meet you."

He'd been keeping the seductiveness to a minimum anyway, but there was no trace of it at all when he spoke to her. The only word out of his mouth was a rather cold "Lieutenant." He barely looked at her.

"If you'll excuse me."

"Who's on post-op duty?" Margaret asked him.

"Charles just took over for me."

She led the nurses in, but was definitely not oblivious enough to miss Hawkeye intercepting Lieutenant Monroe and whispering something brief to her.

She almost laughed when she realized what was going on. Hawkeye was attracted to this woman, and was trying not to openly flirt with her because of his promise to Margaret. She'd have to chide him for it later, though she'd commend him for at least trying while she was at it.

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"Who?" was BJ's first question when Hawkeye walked through the Swamp door. His friend's face was white.

"What?"

"You look awful. I thought something had happened with one of the patients."

"No, it's nothing like that." He poured himself a drink and downed it in one. "Personal problem is all."

"Looks serious." His eyes were on the empty glass.

"Don't worry about it. It'll be fine."

"You want to talk about it?"

"No, thanks."

"Say, do you know if our new nurses are here yet?"

"Ran into them on my way out of post-op."

"Sorry, I'm keeping you up." The short sentences were clearly Hawkeye's way of saying he was tired, and BJ felt bad about preventing him from sleeping.

"That's all right. But I am gonna sack out."

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Margaret set down her book when someone knocked. "Come in."

Hawkeye stepped in. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"I was going to find you and ask you the same question, but Hunnicutt said you were sleeping."

"Ladies first. What is it?"

"Let me first say that I appreciate you trying not to flaunt breaking your promise to me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You said you wouldn't make passes at the nurses."

"I didn't!"

"Not in front of me. But I definitely saw you whispering to Lieutenant Monroe."

"I wasn't flirting, believe me. I just had something I wanted to say."

"And what was that?"

"'So you lied about that too?'"

"What?"

"Margaret..." he swallowed hard. "She told me her name was Marissa Cunningham."

"When? What are you talking about? Where do you know her from?"

"It's her, Margaret."

The tone of his voice worried her, but she wasn't sure why. "Who?"

"The woman ... from Tokyo." He didn't say more. From the look on her face, he knew he didn't have to.

"Oh, Hawkeye." She pulled him down to her bed and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned into her, relishing the contact, craving it, _needing_ to be held. Tremors ran through his body as he clung to her.

"Hawkeye," she said softly, not quite sure how to approach this subject, "you should talk to Colonel Potter."

"What?" He straightened up in her arms instantly. "Uh-uh. There's no way."

"She can't stay here! I don't want her here, and I can tell you sure as hell don't want her here either."

"You're right, I don't. I don't want her within a hundred miles of me, all right? But I don't want to tell either. Margaret, please -"

"Shh." He looked so desperate she couldn't stay firm against him, and she pulled him close again. "I'm not going to make you do anything. I'll try to keep her away from you, all right?"

He nodded against her shoulder.

"If you change your mind - I really do think he'd listen." She wished she could tell Hawkeye what he'd told her now a few months earlier when she was recovering from being sick about how he'd risked his career to defend a rape victim in his outfit, but she wasn't sure he wanted that to get around. After all, he hadn't said anything about it for the first year and a half he'd spent there. "Just let me know. I'll be there with you."

"I won't," he whispered. "But if I do, I will."

xxxxxxxxx

"Finally, a taste of class in this outfit."

"What are you talking about?" BJ rolled his eyes and shared a glance with Hawkeye.

"I've just had a fascinating conversation with Lieutenant Monroe. She comes from a high-class, wealthy family in Maryland. A lady of good breeding and it shows. A welcome change from everyone here. Especially you two buffoons." This was said with less bite than it once might have been, speaking to the tentative camaraderie between him and the two Captains, but it was clearly still calculated to poke at them. "I'll enjoy having her around."

_For me, it was a seaside house in Vermont._ Hawkeye sighed. He really hated hearing Charles wax poetic about her, even though once upon a time he'd thought he would return to the 4077 doing the same.

_Do you find her as attractive as I once did, Charles? As charming? A perfect match?_

For a wild moment, he considered telling Charles exactly what kind of class this woman belonged to. But he couldn't spill it. Not to Charles of all people. It wasn't like he was in actual danger. She didn't have - _backup_ - here.

He couldn't do it. Couldn't make himself say the words.

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"Hello, again, Captain."

Hawkeye froze. He had prayed a year ago never to hear that voice again, and he'd heard it on his way out of post-op anyway. Now he was hearing it while alone, and it chilled him to the bone.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed without turning around. He thought he'd be sick if he had to see her face.

"Oh, come now. Have you forgotten what we had together?"

"I haven't forgotten _anything_." He emphasized the last word hard.

"Hawkeye, please."

Her hand touched his arm, and he spun around and jumped back. "Don't touch me." He wanted to look away, but keeping his eyes on her was worth it if it meant keeping her hands off him.

"What happened to all those compliments you were giving me? I thought I was the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen."

"You were. Right up until you set me up to be -" Bile rose in his throat with the last word, and he couldn't get it out.

"You're telling me you didn't like it? That there wasn't some part of you that was excited by it?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you," he ground out.

"Don't you want anything from me?"

"Yes, I do. I want you to leave me alone. Just stay away from me."

He kept himself composed as long as he was within sight of her. As soon as he saw her turn and head into the mess tent, he bolted for the latrine and emptied his stomach.

He stepped back outside on shaky legs to find Margaret waiting for him. "What is it?" She offered him a glass of water.

He rinsed his mouth and drank the rest. "Thanks. How did you know?"

"I saw you running for the latrine, I guessed. What happened?"

"Not here," he whispered, looking around anxiously.

"My place." She led him to her tent and helped him sit down. "Now, what's going on?"

"She tried to talk to me. Kept acting like we'd been lovers, reminded me of everything I said when I thought she was just another date." He choked slightly, and she sat down next to him. "She asked me - asked me if there wasn't some part of me that had liked it."

The next thing he knew, she was hugging the breath out of him. "Don't listen to her, Hawkeye. You know you didn't. She hurt you in the worst possible way."

"But I did, you know, when she -"

"We've had this conversation before. Just because you responded physically doesn't mean anything about your feelings. It's a medical fact, and you know it."

She felt a dampness on her shoulder and realized Hawkeye was crying silently. She ran her fingers gently through his hair, saying nothing, giving him the chance to let out his pain and fear.

"It makes me sick just looking at her," he whispered through tears. "What am I supposed to do in OR? I can't work with her, I'll be putting someone's life at risk. I freeze up when she gets too close to me."

"Leave that to me," she soothed. She was tempted to repeat her suggestion that he tell someone, but she knew he'd made up his mind and had no intention of going back on it. "Shh, just cry it out, Hawkeye."

At that, he couldn't keep himself to silent tears and began to sob. She held and rocked him, trying to do what she could to make it a little bit less painful. It took him nearly half an hour to spend his tears. Once he'd stopped crying, she gently wiped his face. "Any better?"

"I'm so tired," he admitted. The emotional rollercoaster of the day had taken its toll on him.

"If you'd like, you can stay in here tonight." Whatever fears he was facing, she didn't want him facing them in the company of a doctor who she'd heard singing Monroe's praises and a well-meaning best friend who nonetheless didn't have any knowledge of his situation.

"I'd appreciate that," he said softly. He let her help him out of his fatigues and lie him down.

"I'll be back in a little while, okay?"

"No - stay," he mumbled, half-asleep, reaching unconsciously for her hand.

She couldn't refuse him, not here and now. She slipped her hand into his and stroked his hair as he dropped off.

**I know I'm probably cruel to leave you hanging like this, but I wanted to get this up because of the false notification and I've hit a block writing the next part.**

**Which leads into ... sorry for the false notification. A computer glitch caused me to accidentally add a chapter from another document, which I deleted and replaced with the AN.**

**I realized I had completely accidentally named one of the new nurses "Donna Parker", a name that had been used for an unrelated character on the canon show. From now on, Donna Parker is renamed Anna Peterson. I changed the name in this chapter.  
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**This chapter contains a subtle reference to _Carry on, Hawkeye._  
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**Please review.**


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Coming Undone

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Seventeen: Coming Undone**_

"All right, I can take another patient."

"This one's pretty bad, doctor," the corpsman reported. "Chest wound."

"Hawk?" BJ looked worriedly at his friend. He didn't know if he was up to this one.

"Beej, finish for me. I'll take him." He tore his gloves off. "Come on, someone give me fresh gloves! Gown!"

"I'll assist."

Hawkeye froze, swallowing hard. This was going to be a tricky operation at best. He didn't want to make anyone suspicious, but he couldn't do something that difficult if he was working with _her_.

It was Margaret who saved him. "I think I'd better. This one's going to be tough, and I've done these before." She pulled off her own gloves. "Monroe, come here, assist Dr. Winchester."

Hawkeye shot Margaret a grateful look as she gloved up.

"Scalpel. And thanks," he added so only she could hear him.

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"Hello."

He sighed, putting the box in his hands back down. "I told you to stay away from me." He tried to keep his heart rate steady. In the supply tent, alone with _her_, was the last place he wanted to be.

"Why, Hawkeye. Why the cold welcome?"

"We discussed this yesterday," he growled.

"Hawkeye, Hawkeye." She smiled. He wanted to be sick right there. "Come, now."

Before he could stop her, she'd thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him firmly on the lips. Her tongue forced its way into his mouth. He stood, frozen, paralyzed with fear, unable to disengage from her.

She pulled back slowly, keeping her arms around his neck. "Now wasn't that nice?"

"Monroe!" Hawkeye heard Kellye's voice and nearly crumpled in relief. "Major Houlihan's looking for you. Monroe? Janice, where are you?"

She kissed him again, more briefly though it still felt like forever to him, and then let go. The door to the supply tent slammed shut, and he sagged against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

He waited as long as he could to make sure she was clear, but finally he couldn't fight his stomach anymore and he hurried out of the tent and around to the back of it. Falling to his knees, he brought up what little food he'd managed to get down in the day and a half since _she_ had arrived. He couldn't stop the tears of fear and humiliation that ran silently down his face.

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"Not hungry?" Potter asked as Hawkeye pushed the food around on his plate.

"With this food, who would be?" He swallowed hard. Just looking at his dinner was making him nauseous. He'd lost all semblance of an appetite after the kiss Monroe had forced on him.

BJ joined the table, rolling his eyes. "Can't they ever cut it out?"

"Who and what?" Potter asked.

"It's Margaret and Charles again. They're fighting over, get this, the way Margaret handles her nursing staff."

"What?" Hawkeye and Potter asked together.

"Well, Charles is somewhat, ah, taken with that new nurse, Monroe."

_So much for a distraction._

"Anyway, I don't know if it's all in his head or what but he's convinced Margaret's being harder on her than on the other nurses. He's getting on her about it, and she's not giving an inch."

The door burst open and Margaret's voice floated through. "...know what I'm doing with my own nursing staff, Doctor! It is none of your business!"

"When you can learn to treat your staff decently, I will stay out of your business! But your treatment of Lieutenant Monroe is unjust. She has told me that you are hypercritical of her every mistake."

"I expect nothing but the best from my nurses!"

"Then why haven't I heard similar complaints from Jennings or Peterson? Or for that matter from the other three?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because they can take a little criticism instead of whining constantly!"

"All right, all right!" Potter had apparently decided that letting them settle a personnel problem, loudly, in public, was a bad idea. "Major, and Major!"

They both fell silent.

"First of all, what on Earth is the problem? Major Winchester, you first."

"I've been receiving complaints from Lieutenant Monroe that Major Houlihan is unduly hard on her."

Potter turned to Margaret, who spoke without further prompting. "Colonel, the way I deal with my nurses is my affair. I do _not _need Major Winchester butting in on it."

"All right, both of you. Charles, the nurses are Major Houlihan's responsibility, so let her do her job. If one of the nurses has a problem, have her talk to Major Houlihan or myself directly. Margaret, you might do well to lighten up a little on these girls. They're only human."

She threw herself down on the bench next to Hawkeye, and only he heard her say, "that's debatable."

He gripped her hand gratefully under the table. He had no doubt that the inequity Monroe had complained of was _not_ all in her head. Margaret might not be able to do anything through official channels, but one thing most of the nurses who had served with her, especially in the more distant past, would agree on was that she could make a person miserable. Only now, she was doing it on purpose.

But Hawkeye didn't think Margaret could possibly make Janice Monroe's life as miserable as she was making his.

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"Hawk, what's going on?"

"What are you talking about?"

"For the last couple of days you've been acting strange."

"Strange how?" He tried to keep his face neutral.

"Usually I can't shut you up. Recently it's pulling teeth to get you to talk."

"Just some personal trouble, I told you."

"Can I help?"

He shook his head slowly. Part of him desperately longed to tell him everything, just so BJ would hold him. He wanted that embrace so badly. But the look on BJ's face a few months ago when he'd had to cut a rope and leave someone to die a few short months ago haunted him. Just like when _it_ had first happened, he couldn't do that to his friend. He'd wait until BJ was asleep and then he'd go get that hug from Margaret instead.

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"You're out late, Captain."

_No, please no._ "So are you, Lieutenant."

She smiled, and it turned his stomach. "Well then, we can be out late together."

"I have no interest in doing anything together with you."

Her hands took his shoulders and he pulled away harshly. She put them back against his chest, pushing him into a wall and pinning him with her body.

"Don't touch me." It was a whisper now, pleading. "Please don't touch me."

"Oh," she purred, "but I like to touch you."

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"Go away!" Margaret rolled over sleepily. Who was waking her at this hour?

Another knock, more urgent. Her yell hadn't done any good. Maybe if she ignored them, they would leave.

"Margaret, please! Let me in!"

Hawkeye's voice was pained. She jumped to her feet and opened her door.

He was paper-white, shaking, with tears running down his face. She pulled him inside and guided him to her cot so he could sit. He took the seat but didn't stop shaking.

She sat down next to him and gathered him into her arms. "What happened, Hawkeye?" Her hands ran soothingly along his back. "What happened?"

He leaned into her, resting his head on her shoulder. "I was coming to see you, just to talk. She stopped me."

Margaret didn't have to ask who 'she' was. Only one woman could get Hawkeye this upset. "What did she do?"

"She pushed me up against a wall, and she started kissing me. Then she - she put her hand in my pants, started touching me. I begged her to stop, she just laughed." A sob tore loose from his throat. "I really thought she was going to - she didn't take it all the way this time, but-"

"Shh, Hawkeye." She kissed the top of his head and pulled him tight, tears pricking at her own eyes. She couldn't help her own guilt. Hawkeye had been hurt because he was trying to come to her. She kissed the top of his head gently.

"Margaret -" he whispered.

"What? What can I do?"

His eyes met hers. "Kiss me."

"What?"

"I can _feel_ her on my lips. Please, Margaret."

She cupped his cheek in her hand and tipped his head up. The kiss she pressed to his lips was gentle, lacking any of the fire of the few kisses they had shared before. This wasn't about passion. This was about comforting him and trying to erase the remnant of what _she_ had done to him.

She tasted salt on her lips and knew he was crying. She drew back and pulled him into her shoulder. He buried his face in her hair and sobbed.

Her own tears fell into his shirt. Of all the places for this woman to end up, it had to be the same tiny hospital as a man she'd tormented. A man she was still tormenting, by the looks of things. Margaret of all people knew how horrible it was not to be able to escape the person who had victimized her, and she knew Hawkeye was close to crumbling under the strain.

"Hawkeye, are you _sure_ about keeping this quiet? If you told Colonel Potter, he could have her out of her in two days. You'd never have to see her again. I do what I can but I can't guarantee anything."

"I couldn't," he whispered. "I _couldn't_."

"Shh, okay, okay." She really didn't want to get him agitated. He'd come to her to be comforted, not upset further. "Do you want to stay here?"

"If I can. I can't face walking out there again. Not tonight. I'll sleep on the floor -"

"You don't have to."

"I don't like constantly putting you out of your bed."

"I don't mind. You've done the same for me. Come on."

She slid off his boots and jacket, but like she had once before she resisted her instinct to help him with his pants, knowing he might not be able to take that even from someone he trusted. He laid down and she joined him, pulling him tight so he'd feel safe. His head dropped to rest on her shoulder and his arm went around her waist to keep her close.

He thought at first he'd never be able to fall asleep. But the safety of Margaret's arms overrode the memory of _her_ touch, and he was so completely exhausted. With her hands running comfortingly through his hair, he dropped off.

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Hawkeye looked longingly through the mesh at Margaret's tent, but he knew she was sleeping after a shift which followed several nights of limited sleep thanks to his nightmares. It wasn't fair of him to keep waking her. That was why he'd tried to nap in his own tent.

After more than four days of being kissed and groped every time he was alone, he'd woken from a nap to find himself in what someone who didn't know better might have merely termed a 'compromising position'; naked with _her_ on top of him, already - inside her. He'd tried to fight but she already had had him pinned, and his own terror had worked against him. He could do nothing but close his eyes and turn his head so he didn't have to watch her violate him.

He felt like he would be sick, but he fought to control himself. He didn't want to move. It had taken all his strength just to get his shirt and shorts back on so his roommates wouldn't ask questions. He lay on his side, curled into a ball, shivering as tears he couldn't stop slid down his face.

The door opened and Hawkeye hurriedly closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. The tiny part of his mind that was rational gave him some small comfort - the footsteps were too heavy to be _her_. He knew that step anyway. BJ.

It appeared his sleeping trick worked, because the younger doctor didn't say anything. Hawkeye lay still and silent until he heard BJ's snoring, then he opened his eyes and curled in even tighter.

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"Let's dance."

Hawkeye fought a desire to throw up right there. It hadn't been five hours since she'd raped him and now she was inviting him for a dance in the Officers' Club, where, incidentally, he only was in order to get away from his memories.

"Let's not," he ground out.

"Come on, Captain." She slid in close to him. With the bar behind him, he had nowhere to go.

"_Don't - touch - me._" He punched every word, but it didn't seem to make a difference.

"One little dance?" She reached out one hand and ran it up his thigh.

Something in him snapped then. He just couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her as hard as he could, sending her into a table.

"I _said_," he hissed as he pushed her, "Don't. Touch. Me."

She and the table went down with a crash, and all conversation ceased, as did Father Mulcahy's piano solo. The people closest to him processed what they had just seen, and then one of them turned a glare on him.

In a few seconds he'd be swarmed, just as soon as people realized what he had done, and then there'd be no getting out. He bolted for the door, vaguely hearing someone calling his name but not registering it. He had to get somewhere, somewhere safe, somewhere she wouldn't find him and hurt him again. He longed for Margaret, but she was still asleep. Dimly, he remembered that the Colonel had been in the O-club with the rest of them. _She _wouldn't go into the Colonel's office without permission, even on the off chance that it occurred to her she might find him there.

He barely heard Klinger's baffled questions and exclamations as he walked through the outer office. He pushed through the double doors and then slumped to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his back against the side of the Colonel's desk, and tried to slow his panicked breathing.

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"All right, where did he go?"

Potter had cleared out the majority of the party in the club and was now standing with BJ, Charles, and Father Mulcahy, trying to determine where his Chief Surgeon might have gone after so uncharacteristically pushing Lieutenant Monroe into a table.

"More to the point, why did he do it? Could there be something wrong with him?"

"What do you mean?" Mulcahy asked.

"He's been acting strange for a few days now, but he insists it's nothing, just a personal problem. Just sort of quiet, reclusive. And he hasn't been sleeping in the Swamp either."

"I had noticed that," Charles piped in.

"Well, maybe if we _found him_ he'd be able to answer some of our questions!"

"Colonel - Holy Toledo, what happened here?" Klinger had just stepped through the door to see an overturned table and an all-but-empty room.

"Long story. What is it, Klinger?"

"Well, sir, I just thought you'd like to know. Captain Pierce just walked into your office."

The four officers shared a glance. Potter spoke first. "Let's go."

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"Pierce, what the hell was that all about?" Potter burst into his office with BJ, Charles, Mulcahy, and Klinger trailing closely behind to find Hawkeye sitting on the floor.

"What?" he asked softly.

"You pushed Lieutenant Monroe into a table! You could have seriously hurt her!"

"I - I didn't - I just wanted her to get away from me!"

"You wanted her to get away badly enough to push her? Does this have anything to do with that personal issue you were telling Hunnicutt about? It isn't necessary for you to take it out on Lieutenant Monroe."

"I'm not 'taking out' anything." He hadn't even looked at Potter. "Lieutenant Monroe _is_ my problem."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Hawkeye swallowed hard, knowing what he had to do now. He prayed the old man would be as understanding as Margaret had been certain he would be.

"I met Lieutenant Monroe about a year and a half ago, when I was on R&R in Tokyo. She came on hard and I was charmed by her. She - she took me to a 'private place', only it turned out there were men waiting for us there, and she'd been nothing more than bait in a trap. _Willing _bait." He drew a deep breath, steadying himself for what he knew he had to say next. "They - they -" He swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. "I was raped. By the men, and by her."

The room was thrown into total silence. No one even breathed.

"I really thought I'd put it all behind me, and then I saw her standing here, in the compound. And she recognized me too. She's been coming up to me every time I'm alone, kissing me and groping at me, and today I woke up to find her in the process of - of doing _it_ again. Then she came up to me in the Officers' Club and started running her hand up my leg - I just can't do this anymore. So I pushed her away from me."

It was BJ who broke the frozen silence to run to his friend's side, nearly knocking Colonel Potter down in the process. "Hawk - _Hawkeye._" He couldn't get out more than this broken repetition of his friend's name, but it was enough to get the black-haired doctor's attention.

"I didn't mean for you to hear that," he whispered.

BJ shook his head wordlessly as he dropped to his knees and gathered his friend into his arms. He could feel the man tense and shaking against him, scared out of his mind no doubt. Hawkeye leaned into him, wrapping his own arms around BJ's back, soaking in the Californian's love and caring, needing to just be held and feel safe.

Potter crouched down behind him, laying a gentle hand on his back. He could tell the doctor was struggling to hold back his tears. "Easy, son. Just let it out." No trace of the anger that had been in his voice mere moments ago remained. His heart ached for Hawkeye as the young man began to cry as soon as he gave the word, wrenching sobs coming from the deepest part of him. BJ's hand gently guided his friend's head to his shoulder as silent tears streamed down his own face, and Potter felt the dampness of tears on his own cheeks as he rubbed his distraught friend's back.

The other three stood over them, still silent. No one had any clue what to say.

Klinger burned with anger inside. That woman had tricked Hawkeye, tricked all of them, and caused so much pain to a man he called his friend, and she'd been walking around the unit making friends with everyone. He wanted to do a lot more to her than push her into a table.

Mulcahy was filled with both anger and grief. He'd never believed so strongly in a hell for the truly deserving. Like the woman who he had truly believed was his friend. She'd connected with him from her first day there, all while she'd been tormenting his friend behind his back. It was heartbreaking to watch Hawkeye cry like he was, like his world was falling apart. Which from his perspective it probably was.

Charles was furious that she'd deceived him so completely that he'd found her so charming and attractive. But he felt a rush of guilt. How many times had he praised her in front of Hawkeye? What a torment that must have been for him, to hear so much about the supposed virtues of a woman who had violated him. Even though there was no way he could have known, he still felt that he should have done something differently.

Hawkeye's sobs had subsided, though he still wept quietly into BJ's shoulder. Potter straightened up slowly. "Son, I might have to tell a few people in order to get her out of here. Is that all right?"

"Just don't tell anyone you don't have to," he whispered through his tears. After everything that had happened, he'd do anything not to have to see her again. Even let people know.

"I won't. And that goes for everyone!" he added, suddenly firm, and BJ felt Hawkeye tense against him.

"Everyone?"

The old Colonel sighed when he realized Hawkeye had revealed this horrible secret without being aware of how many people were listening. He supposed he should have seen it when Hawkeye had said he hadn't meant for BJ to hear, but he'd been too worried about Hawkeye's state of mind at the time.

"Don't worry," Father Mulcahy said softly. "I would no sooner betray this confidence than break the seal of the confessional."

"You have my word - Hawkeye." Charles had called his fellow surgeon by his nickname only a few times, but after all he'd just heard, he didn't think it would feel right to be formal.

"Mine too, Captain." Klinger's voice was somber. "I won't tell anyone."

"Klinger, have a sentry put the Lieutenant on house arrest. Use the VIP tent, I don't want the nurses caught up in the middle of this. Then get on the horn to the MPs. And no, Klinger, I can't allow you to interact directly with her. That goes for all of you." He knew they were angry. He was angry. But if he let Monroe be harmed, it could hurt their ability to make a case. He could play the game as well as anyone.

"Pierce, can you walk?"

"I - I think so." He still hadn't stopped crying.

"Go back to the Swamp and get some rest. Hunnicutt, go with him."

BJ pulled a still-shaky Hawkeye to his feet and helped him out of the office and into their tent. He made to guide him to his bunk, but the other man stiffened against him and it was with a stab of pain that he remembered what Hawkeye had said about being raped on that bunk a few short hours ago. He sat his friend on his own bunk instead. Hawkeye continued to shiver and cry, so BJ joined him, still holding him close. He couldn't imagine the pain his friend must be in. He wished he could do something to take it away.

The door opened and then clicked shut, and BJ looked up to see Father Mulcahy and Charles standing just inside. His bunkmate spoke first. "Is there anything we can do?"

"If you could - switch the mattress on Hawkeye's cot for the one on the spare bed."

"What?"

Mulcahy had clearly caught on, however, and he whispered something to Charles, whose baffled expression changed to one of sympathy. The mattress swap was completed in a matter of minutes, and BJ gently guided Hawkeye back to his own bunk. Hawkeye wasn't crying anymore, but BJ suspected he was just too tired to cry anymore, and he fully expected to see more tears before this ordeal was really over.

"Shh, look, it's a different bed, see? Come on, lie down. Just rest, Hawk."

He couldn't fail to notice that Hawkeye curled into a ball on his cot. A defensive reaction. It almost made him sick that the man had been so badly hurt that he couldn't feel safe in his own bed. He looked so miserable, his eyes red from crying, an almost childlike look of fright on his face.

Father Mulcahy reentered the tent - BJ hadn't even been aware he was gone - and offered him a damp cloth. He took it from him and gently wiped the tear tracks from Hawkeye's face. Hawkeye leaned into his friend's hand.

He drew up the blankets over him. "Sleep, Hawkeye. Sleep. I won't let anything happen to you."

He began to rub his friend's back in soothing circles. Hawkeye's eyelids slipped shut; he was just too tired to stay awake, even with everything that lurked just beyond consciousness, and the gentle motion of BJ's hand lulled him to sleep.

Hawkeye's breathing was slow and even, and BJ gently moved the hand from his back to brush the hair out of his face. "Why didn't he _tell _me?"

"Don't be angry with him," Mulcahy whispered back. "I hardly think he needs that now."

"I'm not. How could I be?" BJ dropped his face into his free hand. "It's _me_ I'm angry at. He was going through all this just feet from me, and I didn't help him. I didn't even see that he was hurting."

"She fooled us all," Charles said softly.

"I mean the first time. It all makes sense in hindsight. He came back from that R&R acting strange, quiet, closed off, you know? He avoided all questions about his trip. Then about two days in, he had a major panic attack in OR when a patient grabbed him. About that time he just stopped sleeping in the Swamp for a few days, like he just did. God only knows where he was sleeping instead. He stopped flirting so much with the nurses - even if I didn't know _what _was wrong, I should've known _something_ was, but I let him talk me down and reassure me everything was okay."

"I asked him if something was wrong too," Mulcahy whispered. "He gave me the same reassurances. BJ, for whatever reason he didn't want us to know. You can't be blamed for reacting exactly how he intended."

"I just wish I could have done something before now." He cast another glance on his sleeping friend. "I wish there was more I could do _now_ than let him cry on me."

He sat down in the chair next to Hawkeye's bed, barely hearing the sounds of chaos beginning outside. Charles sat on his bunk, and Mulcahy, at BJ's silent nod of permission, sat on the younger surgeon's bunk to join the vigil.

**Believe it or not, there was actually going to be more of this chapter but my rush of inspiration died here and I decided this was long enough to go ahead and post. Everything else I'd intended to put in this chapter will be in the next one.**

**For anyone who missed the AN in the last chapter: **I realized I had completely accidentally named one of the new nurses "Donna Parker", a name that had been used for an unrelated character on the canon show. From now on, Donna Parker is renamed Anna Peterson. I changed the name in the last chapter.**  
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**Please review.**


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Silent Support

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Eighteen: Silent Support  
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He should have known something would go wrong.

From what he could tell, Monroe had put up a fuss about being arrested, playing the victim for an audience left in the dark. Unfortunately, it was an effective performance. Several of the nurses had jumped to her defense, and much of the rest of the camp had jumped in on one side or the other. Even the sentry looked a little confused. If looks could have killed, she'd have been dead from the one Klinger was giving her from the sidelines, though to the clerk's credit he'd listened to orders and was keeping a safe distance. But the shouting was loud enough to wake the dead.

"What is going on out here?"

And, apparently, to wake the Head Nurse, who came out of her tent in a dressing gown. Which wasn't a bad thing in and of itself. "Major, help me settle this crowd."

"Gladly, Colonel." She stepped on top of a supply crate. "_Everybody shut up for a second_!"

Colonel Potter nodded gratefully at her as she stepped down from the crate. "Now, one at a time, what is all the commotion about?"

"Colonel, you were in the Officers' Club tonight, and you saw what happened. It should have been quite obvious that I was the injured party, and yet I'm being arrested. There must be a misunderstanding."

"There's no mistake, Lieutenant. I gave the order myself." He didn't even bother looking at her.

This sparked a reprise of the shouting, but Margaret held up her hand and they all fell silent again - a trick she'd learned from Hawkeye.

"Colonel," Baker was the first to speak, "_why _is she being arrested?"

"That's confidential information."

"That doesn't seem fair, Colonel," Peterson put in. "Lieutenant Monroe doesn't know why she's being arrested, _we_ don't know why she's being arrested, and she _was_ the one who got pushed into a table."

"Someone pushed her into a table?" Margaret repeated, looking over at Potter. She suspected it might have been Hawkeye, and if it had that could be trouble.

"Beside the point. Anyway -"

"Colonel!" All six of the lower-ranked nurses spoke at once.

"Tell us _something,_" Jennings insisted

"I told you. That information's not for the public ear."

"Colonel," Kellye said tentatively, "what about this? Major Houlihan has as high a security clearance as anyone in this camp except you. You tell her, she can decide if she believes the grounds are there for the arrest. If she thinks they are, then we'll accept that."

Potter considered this. On one hand, this had nothing to do with clearance and everything to do with Hawkeye's privacy. On the other hand, they were getting nowhere with the necessary arrest. He had told the young surgeon he might have to tell a few people. Margaret and Hawkeye were close friends and Potter knew the man trusted her. He also knew she'd comprehend the severity of the situation and the depth of Hawkeye's pain.

"Is that all right with you girls?" he asked finally.

"Yes, sir." Baker had been there the longest and knew that Margaret would be fair.

"I'll accept that." Able, also a long-term member of the unit, was willing enough to go along with it.

The other two nurses hesitated more, but they had faith in their bunkmates and slowly first Jennings and then Peterson nodded their agreement. Potter didn't even bother to look at Monroe and see if she did. As far as he was concerned, she didn't get a say. "Major, if you will."

"My tent should do."

He followed her in. "Sit down."

"Colonel -"

"Margaret, sit down."

"What is it?" She felt like she should warn him that she couldn't be impartial, but Hawkeye still hadn't given an inch on telling Potter or anyone else, and she'd be hard-pressed to explain the problem without getting into that.

"I need your silence on this before we begin."

"You have it."

He drew a deep breath, deciding the best way to do this would be to just say it straight out. "Doctor Pierce told me earlier this evening that Lieutenant Monroe raped him some months ago in Tokyo, and again this afternoon."

"_What_?" Until the last four words, her only surprise had been that he had told Potter after being so adamant about the secret. But she'd heard nothing about the afternoon's incident. She'd gone right to sleep after her shift and nothing had woken her until the commotion in the compound had begun.

"That's the reason behind the arrest. With your permission -"

"By all means, Colonel. I don't want a woman like that on my staff. Where is he?"

"In the Swamp, but Margaret, don't bother him tonight. Hunnicutt's with him. The last thing he needs is a crowd."

_I'm not a crowd, I'm his friend. I've been there for him through all of this._ "I won't bother him."

"I suppose I can't really keep you away. And," he admitted, "you might be good for him. It might help him to have someone who has some concept of what he's going through. Just help me with the girls, all right?"

"What? Oh, right. Of course." She stood, adjusting her robe.

xxxxxxxxx

BJ looked up slightly as someone tapped on the tent, but didn't actually say anything, still slightly shell-shocked. The knocking came again, more urgent, and then a voice.

"Hello? It's Margaret."

The three men in the tent exchanged glances, and finally Charles shrugged in a _what can you do_ gesture. "Come in."

She stepped in to see Hawkeye fast asleep and the other three sitting around him. Mulcahy spoke first. "What was going _on_ out there?"

"Just a little misunderstanding." When no one seemed ready to accept that explanation, she sighed. "Lieutenant Monroe put up a fuss about being arrested. It escalated."

"How bad did it get?" Charles asked.

"They did get her into custody, didn't they?" Mulcahy asked at the same time.

"To answer Charles' question, just a lot of shouting, it didn't get physical. To answer the Father's, yes. The nurses, who had been the crux of this matter, agreed to accept my judgment on the situation."

"How, ah, how thoroughly do you understand the situation?" Mulcahy hedged.

"Colonel Potter told me what happened. That was part of the agreement."

"Is that why you're here?"

She nodded. Mulcahy slid over to the edge of BJ's cot, indicating for her to sit. She did. "How is he?"

"Sleeping quietly for now, but I suspect that's only because he cried himself out." BJ spoke for the first time, and Margaret knew Hawkeye was the only thing on his mind. "I can't imagine he won't have nightmares." He laid a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder as though to comfort him in advance. "How can anyone be so _cruel_? I've never seen him so terrified. It's worse than when you two came back from being captured." BJ's voice cracked and he looked suspiciously close to crying himself. "It was so hard for him even with us there. It hurts so much to think that he was going through all this by himself the first time. It must have been so much worse."

"He wasn't," Charles said suddenly, "was he?"

Under his pointed gaze, she shook her head slowly. "How did you know?"

"The argument we had. I was right, wasn't I?"

"What are you talking about?" BJ asked. "And Charles, what do you mean he wasn't going through this alone? He didn't tell us."

"He told me," she said softly. "About three days after it happened, when I found him crying in the Supply Tent."

"He told you and he didn't tell me?"

"He - he thought he was protecting you."

"_What_?"

"Shh, keep your voice down." She nodded at the still-sleeping doctor. "He said you were barely coping with everything you'd seen. You'd only been here for three months and you'd had your world turned upside-down. He felt like he couldn't put that burden on you." She saw the look on his face. "He _wanted_ to tell you. He admitted it to me. He knew you would take care of him if he did, and he longed for that care, but he felt like it would be selfish to dump it on you just to get relief of his own pain."

"Damn caring idiot, always looking out for himself last." He gently touched his friend's arm again. "Tell me that all those nights he wasn't in here he was with you."

"He was."

"Good. I thought he might have been hiding somewhere." He still looked lost, searching.

"If it makes you feel better, that one had nothing to do with you. The first time, his problem was with Frank. He woke Frank up by accident while he was having a nightmare, and that - that weasel wouldn't stop yelling at him."

"And probably scared the hell out of him," BJ finished.

"I told him he could sleep in my tent so I could comfort him. I think it helped him to have someone there just to hold onto."

"Like you did in post-op after you were captured."

"Exactly. He only came back in here when Frank started taking note and he realized you'd probably noticed too."

"And the second time?" BJ asked softly.

"I'm sorry, Charles, but you had kind of a lot to do with it. It wasn't your fault, but it was hard for him to hear you constantly talking about her."

"I feel terrible," he admitted. "If I had known, I never would have walked around singing her praises like I did. It must have been torture for him."

"The other part was what I said before about needing comfort from someone who knew. He still didn't want to tell you, BJ, and there wasn't anyone else he trusted enough."

"Charles, what tipped you off?" BJ asked.

"The argument we had about Monroe. Before I knew what she was, I accused Margaret of bias for the way she was acting towards her. I was right, wasn't I, about you being harder on her?"

"Of course I was harder on her. She was tormenting one of my friends. I couldn't do anything directly because Hawkeye didn't want it getting out, but I could make her miserable enough to beg for a transfer."

"Regardless of whether that's necessary now, I'm glad for what you did. I know it sounds harsh, but if you made her life even a little bit harder, I'm not sorry in the slightest."

"I should be saying something about forgiveness here, but under the circumstances I'm forced to agree with BJ." Margaret thought she'd never seen so much barely-contained rage in the gentle priest before, but Hawkeye was a dear friend of his too and she knew that whatever he was supposed to feel, religiously speaking, he was as angry as the rest of them for the injury Hawkeye had undergone.

Hawkeye's head turned and a soft, unintelligible string of words came from him. BJ reached out and gently stroked his hair. "Shh, Hawk. It's okay. It's okay. I'm here."

Hawkeye's head dropped back to the pillow and he lay still again. BJ continued to stroke his hair.

The door swung open again and Potter stepped in. "How's he doing?"

"Asleep," Mulcahy said softly.

"Good." He came in completely, favoring Hawkeye with a gentle, fatherly look. "Is there a place for an old man to join this crowd?"

"Here." Charles pointed to a chair by his bed. Potter sat, never really taking his eyes off Hawkeye.

"I could use a drink," he admitted.

"I think we all could." He poured two drinks. "Margaret? Father?"

"Please," Margaret said, and Mulcahy nodded.

"Charles?"

He seemed to consider this for a moment before shrugging. "Why not?"

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, BJ dug out three more glasses. Then he paused and drew out another. He filled them and passed them around, leaving one under the still. "I bet Hawkeye will need one when he wakes up. What happened with the Lieutenant, and I use the term loosely, Colonel?"

"Well, she still wasn't happy about it, but after Major Houlihan laid down her ruling she didn't have the rest of the nurses and everyone backing her up, and the sentry got her into the tent and under guard without any trouble. Klinger got through to the MPs, someone should be here in the morning." He cast a somewhat reluctant look at the sleeping man. "Hawkeye will probably end up having to testify at a trial. I wish we had some other witness, anything, but none of us actually saw anything." He remembered the woman he'd defended. He'd gotten an honest doctor to examine her and that doctor had been able to testify as to her injuries. But the way Hawkeye had told the story, he doubted the man had any visible physical damage.

As one, the other men in the tent turned to look at Margaret, hoping that just maybe she'd seen something that would strengthen their case and help them put that awful woman away.

She sighed. "I did."

"You did what?" Potter asked.

"He was hurt in the first attack. I saw the injures."

"How bad was it?" BJ asked while Potter was still trying to figure out exactly what was going on.

"Bad," she said softly. "The bruises were four days old and he still looked like he'd just been beaten. They cracked three of his ribs, and he tore pretty badly from the sexual assault." She didn't mention that it had taken her a good half hour to get him to take his shorts off so she could see the extent of the damage. It had taken everything she'd had not to burst into tears when he'd instinctively pulled away from her.

"You knew?" The Colonel had finally caught up.

"Pretty much from the first." She'd save the longer story she'd just told the others for later. "If you want me to testify, and Hawkeye gives me permission to disclose medical information, I will."

"It might be what we need, Major. Something to back up Hawkeye's story. Who knows how they'll try to spin it."

"Colonel," she said softly, "when he wakes up, I think you ought to tell him what it was you did that got you sent out here. He needs to know he can count on your support."

"What's she talking about?" Mulcahy asked.

"It's a long story."

"No one's going anywhere," BJ pointed out.

"Well, all right."

xxxxxxxxx

A scream cut through the Swamp, breaking the stillness. For a moment, everyone scrambled blindly in the dark.

Quiet conversation had faded into silence. Charles had gone to sleep on his cot and Margaret had followed shortly thereafter on BJ's, falling into the lap of Father Mulcahy, who had drifted off leaning on the wall. BJ himself had fallen asleep right in the chair by Hawkeye's bed, and Potter had meandered over to the spare bunk. Now they all tried to get their bearings in the dark tent.

Charles, the only one sleeping where he usually did, got oriented first and lit his lamp. Hawkeye was twisting in his bed, shaking so hard the frame rattled against the floor. His face was wet with tears.

He cried out again, and BJ was instantly on his feet and at his side. "Hawkeye! Hawkeye, wake up!"

He took his friend's arm and shook it hard. Hawkeye jerked away, curling into a ball. Tears flowed freely down BJ's face and he looked helplessly at Margaret, who had finally succeeded in untangling herself from Father Mulcahy.

"Hawkeye." She knelt down next to his cot. "Hawkeye, it's Margaret. You're dreaming. Wake up."

"Come on, Hawk." BJ got down on his knees too, imitating Margaret's tone of voice. "Come back to us."

His eyes opened, and fixed on BJ. "Beej, I -"

"Shh." He got up and sat on his friend's cot, helping him sit up and taking him in a hug. "It's all right, Hawk. It's okay."

"No," he whispered, clutching at his friend's shirt, wanting, _needing_, desperately,to be held. "It's not okay."

BJ was hard-pressed to keep his crying silent so Hawkeye wouldn't notice and feel guilty, as he knew he would. The man's shirt was drenched in a cold sweat, and he was still sobbing and trembling.

Margaret climbed up on the bed behind Hawkeye, hugging him from the back. "You're safe, Hawkeye. We won't let anything happen to you."

Under many circumstances, being literally wrapped in people might have triggered his claustrophobia. But he was so terribly scared already, of something far worse. With Margaret on one side and BJ on the other, he felt safer than he had in a week. He clung desperately to BJ as through his best friend might leave him. The tremors in his body eased as he let the feeling of safety wash over him, but he couldn't stop crying. He felt like the pain would tear him apart from the inside out.

"Hawkeye -" Potter began, but he didn't know what else to say. He'd already provided the answer to 'are you all right'. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked finally.

Hawkeye reached a trembling hand out, and Potter took it gently, edging out a space for himself on the bed. Hawkeye hung onto him like an anchor. "Make sure she's locked up. Promise me."

"I promise I won't rest until that woman is brought to justice for what she did to you." Did Hawkeye really think he had to _ask_ for that? Didn't he know Potter would fight with everything he had to make her pay?

"I don't care about punishing her," he whispered. "Locking her up will mean she can never do this to anyone else."

His hand tightened around the surgeon's. The depth of the man's generosity and care for all people never ceased to amaze him. "I will, Hawkeye. My most solemn word."

"One more thing - stay with me." His voice was barely audible under his crying. "All of you. Please. Forget what I said in March." Three months earlier, Hawkeye had become incredibly frustrated with BJ and Charles and the lack of privacy and had temporarily moved out and into a nearby hut, returning only when Margaret had tricked him into thinking he needed to be there to support BJ through an invented crisis. "I really, _really_ don't want to be alone." He hated forcing anyone to take care of him, but the idea of facing this by himself was more than he could bear.

He felt BJ's arms tighten comfortingly around his shoulders. "We're not gonna leave you, Hawk. I promise."

"I'm not going anywhere," Margaret whispered into his ear.

"Don't worry, Pierce. You're stuck with us."

"We're all here." Mulcahy, standing next to the cot that was already accommodating far more people than it had been designed for, gently ran his fingers through Hawkeye's hair to emphasize his point.

"Indeed we are." Charles didn't actually touch Hawkeye, but everyone in the camp could count on one hand the number of times they'd heard him use that tone with anyone, even a patient.

"You don't -" he choked a little. "You don't know how much that means to me. Thank you."

"You've done the same for us," BJ said gently. "A hundred times over."

"You're the one who always takes care of everybody." Potter's grip on his hand was almost painfully tight. "Just this once, let everybody take care of you."

He wanted to protest, to insist they not inconvenience themselves, but he felt so miserable, and the gentle words and touches were so soothing. Safe in the warmth of his friends' arms, he let his exhaustion overwhelm him again.

"He's sleeping again," Potter reported softly. "Can we lay him down without disturbing him too much?"

He released the surgeon's hand without too much trouble, and Mulcahy backed away, but Margaret and BJ were so tightly wound around Hawkeye that it would present more of a problem to separate them without bothering the sleeping man.

The answer hit Margaret quickly. After all, she'd done it before. "This may be a bit difficult with all the junk in here, but would there be a way to push two of the beds up against each other?"

"What for?" Mulcahy asked.

"If we put two beds together, there'd be enough room for us to lay Hawkeye down and stay on either side of him." BJ had caught on quickly.

"Maybe if we rotate this one a little -"

It took some creativity and a lot of shuffling, but within a few minutes they had a double bed, MASH-style, and they managed to get Hawkeye lying down on it without waking him in the process. Charles turned the lamp back off.

"I can't believe I said that," BJ whispered.

"What?" Margaret whispered back.

"That everything was okay. I was just trying to help, but seriously. Could I say anything worse?"

"You were trying to make him feel better. I'm sure he understood."

"I'm no good at this."

"Of course you are. He doesn't need us to say the right thing nearly as much as he needs us to just _be_ here with him. He said so himself."

They fell silent then, not wanting to wake the man sleeping between them and not entirely comfortable with practically having a conversation through him.

xxxxxxxxx

Hawkeye squinted, trying to block the sun out of his eyes as he woke slowly. He couldn't exactly figure out how he'd gotten where he was now, though he remembered the incident with his friends in the middle of the night. He was wrapped up tight between BJ and Margaret.

_Oh God, Margaret_. He hadn't told her about what had happened the day before, but the chances that no one had were slim. How would she have reacted when she'd realized he'd kept that from her?

He tried to sit up, but his friends' arms were wrapped around him, and as long as they were lying down he would be too. It didn't really bother him that much. He felt safer in their arms than anywhere else. He would never, ever take the feeling of safety for granted again. Not after a week where he couldn't feel safe in his own bed because _she _was there, or even all the terror of the first time when she was nowhere near him but he was beyond reasonably analyzing his fears and even Frank Burns' self-righteous shouting was enough to petrify him.

BJ stirred next to him, probably woken by his abortive attempt at getting up. "Oh," he mumbled sleepily, "you're awake."

"Yeah." He wasn't up to making one of his usual jokes.

"How are you feeling? The truth, Hawk, don't try to spare me."

"The truth? I'm still tired, and I feel sick, and I'm so scared I'm shaking inside. I'm not even sure of what."

"You don't have to pinpoint it." BJ ran his hand through his friend's hair, wishing he could take the man's pain and fear away. "You need anything? I saved you a drink."

"I don't think putting anything in my stomach is a good idea right now. I'm having enough trouble keeping down what's already there."

"Pierce?" Potter's voice was heavy with sleep. "You awake?"

"I wish I weren't."

"How do you feel?"

"Why is that everyone's first question? I feel like hell, okay?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, no, _I'm_ sorry. I just feel terrible. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"I understand, son. Listen, you just take it easy, all right?"

"Is it morning?" Margaret asked from somewhere around Hawkeye's spinal column.

"Close to nine hundred," Potter replied.

Margaret slid away from the man she was cuddled up against. "Hawkeye, is there anything we can do?"

"I want to talk to you guys. Each of you, separately, and Klinger too." He knew they all had questions, and he had things he wanted to say to each of them privately.

"In here work for you?" Potter asked.

"Yeah, sure."

"When?" This from Margaret.

"As soon as everyone's awake."

"Everyone's awake," Mulcahy told him from the chair BJ had been using the previous night.

"All right, then now. Please. Charles first, and get Klinger, he's next."

Potter ushered the others out of the Swamp. BJ was still shaking his head. "Why Charles?"

"He's going through in order," Margaret said softly. "In spite of sharing a tent with him, he barely knows Charles, really, and he doesn't know Klinger all that much better, but they are closer. I'll be shocked if he doesn't leave you for last. You're his best friend, his brother. He wants to leave the most emotional ones for the end."

"I'll accept that."

"And I'll find Klinger," Mulcahy chimed in.

**I know this chapter covers a lot of ground, but it didn't feel right to break it anywhere earlier. The individual talks will probably consume a lot if not all of the next chapter. Warning, that kind of stuff tends to be a bit slower going than my normal rate, so it may be a longer than normal break.**

**This chapter contains a reference to _Picture This_.  
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**Please review.**


	19. Chapter Nineteen: One on One

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Nineteen: One on One**_

For the longest time, Hawkeye and Charles just stared at each other. Neither of them was entirely sure what to say.

Hawkeye broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Charles."

The man shook his head in shock. "Sorry? Whatever the hell for?"

"You were interested in her, I know you were. I knew that the woman you liked was a - I don't even have the words for it, but I knew she was leading you on, and I didn't tell you."

"If anything I'm the one who should be sorry. I paraded around this tent talking about her. For Heaven's sake I was in here yesterday afternoon talking about how wonderful she was." How could he not have noticed Hawkeye's complete lack of reaction to that? How much self-control had it taken him not to burst out crying right there? "I should have known not to judge a book by its cover. And I certainly understand why you didn't say anything. As I pointed out quite recently, it's not like I've ever told you anything personal. All the same, you would have been within your rights to tell me to shut up."

"Don't feel bad, Charles."

"I allowed that woman to completely pull the wool over my eyes. I showed no judgment at all. Meanwhile you knew from the first exactly what she was."

"That's not true."

"What?"

"How much of what I said in Potter's office did you actually hear? The only reason I knew what she was this time was because she walked me right into a trap when I met her in Tokyo. I was so totally fooled I let her take me to the worst time of my life and never suspected a thing until it was too late. I get the feeling guile was a lifestyle for her. She's an expert."

Charles reached out a hand and gently grasped Hawkeye's. "I may never give you a compliment again, so pay close attention. I may be your equal, at the very least, in surgical skills, but there's one area in which you have taught me something, and that is human compassion. I know that you all think I've come a long way from the man who cared more about his own image than about the patients under his care. I have. But it didn't happen on its own. Rather, I was inspired by the presence of a master. That you would be concerned over my own state of mind, after all you've been through, only confirms what I think I've known all along. You're the kindest, most genuinely caring man I have ever known."

Before he could stop himself, Hawkeye pulled himself forward on Charles' arm and hugged him. The Harvard doctor accepted the gesture rather awkwardly, but he didn't pull away.

"You know," Hawkeye said softly, "you're not nearly as bad as you'd like people to think you are."

Charles did break the embrace then, but Hawkeye didn't begrudge him that. He saw the man try to wipe away his tears without looking like he was wiping away his tears.

"Hawkeye - if there's anything I can do -"

"Not right now. But thanks."

They lapsed into silence, a more comfortable silence than last time. Again, Hawkeye broke it. "There is one other thing you should know."

"What's that?"

"I always acted like I hated your music. Don't get me wrong, most of the time I do. But - well, what happened to me isn't something you forget. Sometimes I'd wake up with awful nightmares, memories. Once I stopped screaming in my sleep, I bore it in silence, just lay there until I fell back asleep. BJ never knew, and neither did Frank. But the first time I had one after you came, I woke up and I heard your music still playing, and - and it was the most comforting thing in the world. It made me feel a little less alone. Thank you."

This led to more subtle tear-blotting. He had never cared what his tentmates thought of his music, and their protests of it fell on deaf ears, but he had known they'd hated it. At least he'd thought they did. To know that something he hadn't given a second thought to had been such a comfort to his fellow surgeon touched him more deeply than he could express.

"You're most welcome," he said finally.

"Would you send Klinger in?"

Charles recognized that Hawkeye was trying to give him some privacy to compose himself. "All right, I will. Do you want a moment -?"

"No!" The forceful exclamation slipped from his lips before he could stop it. "No," he repeated more sedately. "Send him in. And tell Father Mulcahy he's next."

_Stupid, stupid_. He'd heard the man plead not to be left alone just the night before. "Of course. Right away."

Klinger entered but hovered near the door. "It's okay. You can come in."

"I - I don't know -"

"I'm still the same person I was last week," he said softly. "I know it's hard to understand, but I'm still _me_."

Klinger came in slowly and sat down on the chair that was usually between Hawkeye and BJ's beds. "I'm not sure what to say."

"It's okay. I'm not either."

"You, uh, you should know that the MP's will be here in an hour," he offered softly.

"Thanks, Klinger."

It was impossible to say who hugged who first, but all at once they were wrapped in each other's arms. Klinger rubbed his friend's back gently, trying to comfort him a little.

"You don't have to pretend anything here," he whispered. "It's okay to hurt, Captain - Hawkeye."

No more words needed to be spoken between them. They held each other for a long time.

"Klinger," Hawkeye said softly as they broke apart.

"Yeah?"

A spark of the joking personality they all knew so well showed through. "You're going to make someone a great mother someday."

He chuckled weakly. "Thanks, Captain."

"Can you send in the Padre?"

"Yeah, sure. Who's next on the list?"

"Colonel Potter."

He stood. "Hey, if you need anything just let me know, okay?"

"Thanks, Klinger."

Like before, it was barely a few seconds between people. The priest took up the chair Klinger had vacated.

"Hawkeye - well, I won't ask if you're all right, because I think I know the answer. Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Different reasons for different people," he said softly. "For you - I honestly didn't know how you'd react."

"Why is that?"

"Well, I - how do I say this so it doesn't sound offensive?"

"Just say it. I won't be offended."

"Father - you're a Catholic," he said finally. "I know enough about the religion to know you have problems with men who, you know, do things with other men -"

"Hawkeye, no, no!" Horror crossed the priest's face. "Whatever I think about those kind of relationships in a consensual situation, you didn't ask for that to happen." He slid from the chair onto the cot and pulled Hawkeye into his arms. "I'm sorry, Hawkeye. I'm so sorry. If I ever gave you the impression that I would be so judgmental, then I was the one in the wrong."

"I just wasn't sure," he whispered. "And I couldn't bear even the remote chance that you would think something like that. It's not you, Father. It's the religion in general."

"Hawkeye, can I share a secret with you?"

He felt his friend's head nod against his shoulder.

"I've never entirely been in line with the Catholic tendency to judge so harshly. Our own scripture says 'judge not lest ye be judged', and yet the Church is so terribly judgmental, and people are hurt because of it." He tightened his embrace around his friend. "The last thing in the world that you need is someone to make you feel even worse about how badly you were hurt."

"I'm sorry. I should have known you wouldn't criticize."

"That you thought I would, or that in another circumstance another priest might, speaks to a serious flaw in the religion. It's my personal opinion that what people choose to do with each other that hurts no one should not be criticized in the first place, and certainly no one should be judged for being the victim of a crime." He rocked Hawkeye gently in his arms. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time and you were brutally victimized for it."

"Thanks, Frances." He didn't use the man's given name very often, but it felt right somehow.

The priest continued to rock him. "Oh, Hawkeye. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let that awful woman deceive me." He realized now that she'd been sitting with him in the mess tent pretty much every time, talking to him about this or that, and that the whole time Hawkeye had been sitting as far from them as he could get. When he was there at all, that was.

Hawkeye's throat was too tight to speak. He rested his head on the Father's shoulder, letting the man comfort him.

"I painted you with the wrong brush, Father," he whispered when the lump had eased enough that he could get sound through his throat. "_I'm_ sorry."

The man hugged him tighter. "Don't be, Hawkeye. You have enough on your plate as it is."

Hawkeye hugged the priest back. "Thanks for understanding."

"That's what I'm here for."

He drew back slowly. "Would you, uh, send in the Colonel?"

"Of course, Hawkeye. Let me know if you need anything."

Potter wasn't as shy as the others, walking right into the Swamp and joining Hawkeye on the double cot. "How you holding up, son?"

"I don't know." The Colonel saw the vulnerable look in his eyes. "It's better and worse than last time."

"How's that?"

"Well, I have a lot more shoulders to lean on this time. But last time, it lasted for a few hours in a place I visit once every few months. I put up with her for a week in the closest thing I had to a home. She - she _raped _me in my own bed. And as if that weren't bad enough, thanks to what happened in the officers' club everyone _knows_ something's going on."

"Easy, son." He laid a hand on Hawkeye's shoulder. "Just tell them you don't want to talk about it."

"I'm scared. I'm scared to be alone, I'm scared to walk out that door. I'm afraid to fall asleep." He met Potter's eyes, and the old Colonel could see a deep-seated vulnerability in the younger man's face. "I've barely kept any food down in a week. It makes me sick just _thinking_ about it - about _her_."

"I know it's hard, Hawkeye. But I want you to know I'm with you all the way. Whatever that means."

"It could mean an awful lot," Hawkeye warned softly. "I looked it up when it first happened. I decided it would be easier to just forget."

"I know how much it takes, son. You won't be the first person I guided through the process."

"Who was it?"

"A nurse at Tripler, the hospital where I worked before coming here. Like you, she hadn't intended to report it, but unlike you she did let it affect her performance. I called her into my office to chew her out, and she started to cry before I'd even gotten into it. I talked her into telling me what was wrong. The man who did it was well-connected, and tried to bully her into throwing out the case. But I stood with her the whole way. And I'll stand with you."

"That means a lot, Colonel. Tell me something."

"What?"

"Did you win?" A spark of desperate hope was so evident it made the Colonel want to cry.

"We won, Hawkeye."

They embraced. "Tell me something," Hawkeye whispered against his CO's shoulder.

"What?"

"What happened to her?"

"I transferred her to a VA hospital in San Francisco before they sent me out here. You never did ask me why they'd send someone who hadn't been in an OR for two years out to a MASH."

"A punishment," he said flatly.

"Don't worry." He began rubbing circles on Hawkeye's back. "There's a reason none of your crazy stunts have ever gotten you transferred out of here. You're too needed right where you are."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself, and where are they gonna send me anyway? And I doubt it'll be the same. As sad as it is, respect and position equal justice sometimes. You're well-known and well-respected in this man's army. Monroe's not. In that poor girl's case, it was the other way around."

"That's terrible."

"I know. I hate it too. But in your case, it works in the right person's favor. Dear God, Hawkeye, I wish you'd told me sooner. Like as soon as you saw her here."

"I'm sorry, Colonel. I know I shouldn't have knowingly let someone like that run around the unit."

"Hawkeye, if I didn't know better I'd swear no one ever cared about you. I'm not worried about the _unit_. I wish I could have gotten her out of here before she had the chance to hurt _you_ again." He held the raven-haired doctor tighter. "She put you through hell by the looks of it. I hate that all this went on under my nose and I didn't suspect until it was too late."

"Don't blame yourself. She was sneaky and I did my best not to let on."

"Why?"

"I was ashamed," he admitted finally. "Ashamed that I let something like that happen to me. I couldn't help feeling like it was somehow my fault for letting it happen, even when Margaret kept assuring me it wasn't."

"Would it mean anything if I added my own voice to that chorus? It wasn't your fault, Hawkeye."

"I try to believe it. I keep hearing _his_ voice in my head."

"Whose?"

"This one man - I think he was the leader. He was the one who took my clothes off, who went first. The whole time, he kept asking me if I liked it. Wasn't I just a little excited and all that."

"Sounds to me more like you were terrified." Potter knew he might have to talk his young friend through his misguided guilt.

"I was. I was so afraid of what they were doing, and I was petrified to think about what might come next. It was the only time I can remember in my life that I've really, genuinely prayed for anything, and I was just praying for it to end, for them to stop - it hurt so _much_ -" The tears he was trying desperately to hold in broke free, and he began sobbing on Potter's shoulder.

The older man wrapped him up even tighter. "Whatever he said, you know what you were feeling. You didn't want or ask for it. Put the blame where it belongs, which isn't with you."

Hawkeye was crying so hard he couldn't talk, and the Colonel just let him cry. He knew it would be a long time, if not forever, before the man would be entirely free of the trauma that he'd been put through.

"It wasn't your fault," he whispered. "It wasn't your fault."

That just started Hawkeye crying even harder. All his reservations came crashing down as he clung to his Colonel. All he knew was that he hurt more than should be possible and that he _needed _to be touched and held and comforted, and that if this man who was so like his father was the person who happened to be there and willing, rank and chain of command were irrelevant.

He sobbed until he ran out of tears to cry, and Potter just held him and whispered what comfort he could. "I know this is hard to believe now, but you're going to be all right."

"Really?"

"Really, son." Even though Hawkeye had stopped crying, he was still holding him. "And just tell me if there's anything I can do, anything you need."

"Thank you - Sherman." Only once before had he ever called the man by name, but if there had been a single, flimsy barrier left between them, it was completely and utterly shattered now.

"Unless we get wounded, you're officially off-duty until I say otherwise. Take a few days and just rest. You look like you haven't been sleeping."

"I tried. I kept waking up from these - these awful nightmares, feeling like I couldn't breathe, like my skin was crawling."

"Just take it easy. After putting up with everything she did to you, you deserve a break." He paused. "Hawkeye, please don't take this the wrong way, but I think you could use a professional shoulder to lean on -"

"Sidney knows. About the first time."

"He does?"

"Not the details, but he knows I was - you know." He'd never get over his revulsion at that one awful word. "When he came to heal me up from my sleepwalking, it was a couple weeks after it happened. He asked about another nightmare I'd had, I woke BJ screaming. He kept pressing, so I - I told him."

"Would you like to talk with him now?" Potter wasn't ready to pull rank, but he did think someone who had experience helping trauma victims might be good for Hawkeye, if he was willing.

"Yeah," he said softly. "All right."

"Really?"

"You didn't expect me to say yes?"

"I thought I'd have to convince you a little at least."

"Then you have no idea how much this hurts. I'd do _anything_ to make it stop. If Sidney can do something to help me feel better, my pride isn't strong enough to oppose that."

He squeezed Hawkeye's shoulder. "I'll put in that call."

"Send Margaret in?"

"Of course."

Margaret didn't even wait for Hawkeye to speak before she pulled him into her arms. He'd been trying to keep it together a little but she knew better. She could feel the tension through his back and shoulders, knew how scared and upset he was.

"Oh, Hawkeye -" She couldn't get out any more.

"Did someone tell you what happened yesterday?" he asked.

"I heard about what she did to you." Margaret tightened her hug. "Why didn't you come find me?"

"You were asleep. I've woken you up too many times already this week. Believe me, I wanted to."

"Then you should have." Her rebuke was gentle, caring. "It looked to me like you really needed a friend last night."

"Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"About the Colonel. Why they sent him out here."

"He told me after I was sick."

"That's why you kept telling me to tell him.

"I kept telling you to tell him because I didn't want what happened to happen. But I told you he'd understand because of what I knew about him. It looks like you listened finally."

He shook his head. "I didn't have a choice. I got into a fight with her in the O-club, pushed her into a table. He wanted to know why I did it. I couldn't think of anything to say - except the truth."

"What about the others?"

"I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I didn't realize those four were standing right there when I told him."

"I'm proud of you, Hawkeye," she whispered.

"Thank you. Thank you for everything." His voice cracked.

She kissed his forehead. "Thank _you_."

"For what?"

"Being the one friend I could always count on in this awful place."

They hugged each other tightly.

"Hawkeye, we'll talk later, okay?"

"Tired of me?" he joked weakly.

"Just trying to keep your tent in one piece. I know for a fact BJ's just barely restraining himself from ripping off the door to barge in here." She kissed his forehead. "I _will_ talk to you later. I promise."

Just as Margaret had predicted, the tall doctor came barreling in the second she was out the door. "Hawk, I - I, uh -"

"What?"

"God, I'm sorry," he said finally. "I'm sorry I wasn't a better friend."

"What _are_ you talking about?"

"I should have seen that you were in pain."

"You did," he reminded his friend softly. "I just kept telling you it was nothing."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Margaret had provided an explanation, but he wanted to hear it from Hawkeye.

"How could I? How could I ever do that to you? You don't need this on your plate, it's too full as it is. Not if I'm going to get you back to Mill Valley in one piece."

"And what about you? I saw how hard you were crying yesterday. You needed me."

"Yeah, I did. But I couldn't be selfish."

"Come here." He sat down on the bed and allowed Hawkeye to throw himself into his arms. "I've got you, I've got you." He'd never seen the other man so vulnerable.

"Don't worry so much about everyone else," BJ whispered. "You've been there for me this whole time. You held my head that first day while I was throwing up. You were there for me an hour after I punched you, holding me while I fell apart. Let me pay some of that back. Let me be here when you need me."

Hawkeye burrowed tighter into his friend's embrace. He'd denied himself this for so long, but now that he'd had a taste of it he longed for more. He felt safe and loved in BJ's arms. It was the only place in Korea right now that was safe.

"You see?" His friend's voice was gentle. "Doesn't that feel better?"

"A little," he whispered back.

"I wish you'd told me. I wish I could have helped you before. I wish I could have known to stay here in the Swamp yesterday while you were sleeping so she wouldn't hurt you."

A soft, dry sob tore loose from Hawkeye's throat. He didn't have any tears left to cry, but _God_ this hurt.

BJ started stroking Hawkeye's hair. "Hey, hey, I'm here. I'm here."

"Please don't leave me."

That did it. BJ was openly crying by the time he could get the words out. "I won't, Hawk. I won't leave you. I swear by my little girl, I won't leave you."

**Sorry this took so long, I did give fair warning. And another apology: this will probably be the longest AN in history, so bear with me.**

**About Charles, I liked the idea of Hawkeye secretly taking comfort from Charles' music as an anchor. And it does seem like his compassion comes through the more time he spends at the 4077, I liked the idea of him attributing that to Hawkeye.  
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**About Klinger, I couldn't find much for them to say, but I wanted a moment between them.**

**About Father Mulcahy, I could see him being that guy who mostly agrees with his faith but not so blindly that he can't see that there are human consequences for what the church says, and that he would be more accepting of people's individual decisions, whatever the official position, as long as they didn't hurt anyone (I really wish he'd made an appearance in the episode on the subject of homosexuality). I see it as very in keeping with his character. And one of the reasons men often don't report rape by other men is that they fear they will be seen as gay.**

**About Potter, most of this ground has been covered already but I'll say I said he'd been at Tripler because he says something in one episode about staying in Honolulu.**

**About Margaret, I could see her 'deferring' so BJ wouldn't go nuts waiting. BJ is self-explanatory I think.**

**Please review.**


	20. Chapter Twenty: Picking Up the Pieces

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Twenty: Picking Up the Pieces**_

"Colonel! ICORPS on the phone!"

"ICORPS? What do they want?"

"Wouldn't tell me! Insisted it's for your ears only!"

"All right, all right. Hello? Yes, General, what can I do for you? What? Well, yes we did, you see - Oh, you did. Well, what's the trouble? Okay, then what do you need? I trust Captain Pierce's word, if that's what you mean, and I do have some evidence. Yes. Yes. What? They have? That's terrible. Well, of course, I'll speak to him immediately. I'll call you back as soon as I do." He hung up. "Klinger!"

"You hollered, sir?"

"Get Captain Pierce in here. And whoever's with him can come too." BJ had sat with Hawkeye until his shift, at which point someone else had taken over. They knew they'd have to keep shifts on him for awhile until he was comfortable being alone again.

xxxxxxxxx

Hawkeye was trying to read, but the words weren't able to hold his attention. Father Mulcahy had fallen asleep a few minutes earlier in BJ's bunk, which had been returned to its original location. Hawkeye didn't begrudge him that, but he wished the man were awake and talking. It was too hard to keep the flashes of memory at bay when it was quiet.

He gave up on the book and laid down on his side, curling into a ball as he tried to fight his own mind. He didn't need or want to relive the previous day's ordeal for the hundredth time, or the incident in Tokyo for the millionth. But he couldn't stop the flashbacks. Tears ran freely down his face.

"Captain? Hawkeye!"

He jerked upright to see Klinger standing over him. "Are you all right? Sorry, stupid question."

Hawkeye sat up slowly. "You busy?" Maybe Klinger would sit with him for awhile.

"Actually, I was coming to get you. Colonel Potter wants to see you in his office." He took in Hawkeye's white, tearstained face. "Do you need a minute?"

"Yeah, thanks." He dabbed his eyes on his sleeve.

"I'll wait outside."

Hawkeye caught his arm. "Wait in here."

"Okay."

"Talk to me."

"About what?"

"Anything. It's too quiet in here."

Klinger began a monologue about the antics of one of his many uncles. Hawkeye barely listened to the words as he collected his pants and boots, but the voice was so much nicer than silence. The sound kept him anchored where he wanted to be.

"All right, let's not keep him waiting." Hawkeye braced himself for a walk across the compound. He hadn't left the tent since BJ had brought him in the night before. "Stick with me, all right?"

"You want to bring him?" He indicated Mulcahy.

"No, let him sleep."

He stepped out of the tent, Klinger close behind. "Did the Colonel say what he wanted?"

"No. Just said to bring you."

Hawkeye under normal circumstances might have made a joke, but it was taking enough strength not to hyperventilate. He'd never been so glad to see the Colonel's door.

"Sit down, son."

"What is it, Colonel?"

"Got a call just now. Looks like you stumbled into the middle of a serious operation when you were in Tokyo. From what I'm told, there have been reports more recently of the same thing happening to other men. Same exact scheme you described. Well, as soon as they saw the report I gave them when Monroe was arrested, they called. They'll be sending someone from JAG to ask you some questions. Meanwhile, they're going to show her picture to some of the others, see if they recognize her."

Hawkeye nodded wordlessly. It broke the man's heart. Hawkeye usually had something to say about everything. It was a challenge to shut him up. Now he didn't seem willing to say a word more than was necessary.

"There will probably end up being a trial. And if there is you'll be asked to testify."

Hawkeye nodded again.

"Hawkeye, you're probably sick to death of hearing this, but is there anything I can do?"

"Do you mind if I sit in here for awhile? Father Mulcahy's sleeping, it's too quiet in the Swamp."

"Of course I don't. Here, you want a drink?"

"Yeah, I think I could use one."

Potter poured it for him and pushed it into his hands. "Go on."

Hawkeye couldn't have told anyone what it was he was drinking. He felt the burn in his throat and welcomed it.

"Talk to me," he whispered. "Just - talk. I need to hear a voice from outside my head instead of inside it."

"Memories?" he asked gently.

"Yeah." Hawkeye's own voice was choked. "Please."

"All right. Got a letter in the mail from my son today. You'll never believe what the baby did

Potter chatted on about his youngest grandchild. Like before, Hawkeye wasn't catching all the words, but he was intensely grateful for the sound of his voice. And for the drinks the man poured into him regularly. He felt himself becoming drowsy.

"Mind if I check out for awhile?" he mumbled.

"Why don't you lie down first?" Potter suggested. He took Hawkeye's arm and helped him into the outer office, letting him down on Klinger's cot. The clerk could bunk in the Swamp for a night.

Hawkeye's eyes were closed before his head hit the pillow.

xxxxxxxxx

"How is he?"

Potter glanced down at the sleeping man before looking back at Margaret. "At the moment, sleeping. Or maybe more accurately passed out. I poured half a bottle of scotch into him."

"No nightmares?"

"He's only been asleep for forty minutes. I don't doubt they'll come later."

"I'd like to sit with him."

"Of course."

She sat on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in hers and resting her other hand in his hair. "I'm here, Hawkeye," she whispered. "I'm here."

"Where's Hunnicutt?" Potter asked softly.

"Probably looking for Hawkeye. He tore out of Post-op the second his shift was over." She sighed. "You called Sidney?"

"He'll be here tomorrow afternoon."

"I don't think Hawkeye will be the only one who needs his services. BJ's a mess, and I don't think anyone else he told is doing much better. You and I are the only ones who know how to react. I'm worried about the way everyone's treating him."

"So am I. I'll talk to Sidney about it."

"Colonel!" The door burst open and BJ came flying in. "Have you seen -"

Potter signaled to him to be quiet before pointing to the bunk in the office. "Let him sleep, BJ."

BJ dragged Klinger's desk chair to the bedside and took Hawkeye's free hand in both of his. He tried and failed to speak more than once before giving up completely.

xxxxxxxxx

Hawkeye jerked awake, sweating from a nightmare. Margaret and BJ were sitting next to him, both asleep. _Good. _He didn't want to keep waking his friends.

He rolled over to go back to sleep and groaned softly when he realized that wouldn't be possible. The alcohol the Colonel had generously supplied the night before had made its way to his bladder, and he desperately needed to use the latrine.

The longer he lay there, the more he had to go. He sat up slowly and climbed out of bed, but froze when he got to the door of the office. He knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but he couldn't help it. He was afraid to walk out there alone. He chewed his lip hard as he tried to figure out what to do.

His bladder was bursting, but he couldn't make himself cross the threshold. He gritted his teeth, gazing longingly at the place he most wanted to be, trying to find a way around his dilemma. He knew he couldn't wait much longer, but he was petrified at the idea of going out in the dark alone.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his arm. Margaret stood beside him, taking in the look of extreme discomfort in his face and what he was staring at through the door. He hadn't heard her get up, but he was unbelievably glad to see her.

"Come on," she said softly without him having to say a single word.

He clung to her arm as she walked with him, releasing her only when they finally got to the latrine. He'd never been so grateful to see or enter the little shed. He relieved himself and stepped back out to find her waiting patiently for him.

"Thanks," he said softly, taking her arm again as they walked back. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Don't be. You looked like you really needed that."

"No kidding." He didn't remember ever needing a bathroom that badly. "I just feel bad, you know? I'm so scared I can't even go to the latrine by myself."

"Don't." She stopped and hugged him right there in the middle of the compound. "I couldn't walk on the base alone for a month after _it_ happened to me. I think my father just thought I was taking his lecture seriously, but really I was too afraid. You're just unlucky enough to be in a situation where you have to cross the compound to get to a bathroom."

He nodded slowly. "Can we get back inside?"

"Of course." She gave him her arm again, letting him walk with her.

BJ looked up as they entered. "Let me know before you two go for a midnight stroll next time," he said sleepily.

Hawkeye was too tired and overwrought to give any sort of response. Margaret helped him into bed, but he just lay there, staring at her, so she kicked off her boots and joined him. He relaxed a little once she was wrapped around him, reaching out for BJ's hand. The younger doctor gave it willingly, running the fingers of his free hand through Hawkeye's hair. Blue eyes slipped shut, and his breathing was slow and deep as sleep claimed him again.

xxxxxxxxx

"Pierce. Pierce. Hawkeye."

Eyes blinked open again. Potter was standing over him, reaching his hand through the difficult web of BJ and Margaret to shake him awake.

"Yeah?"

"The people from the JAG office are going to be here in an hour. I thought you'd like a chance to shower and shave. And eat."

"I'm not hungry. But a shower sounds nice." He realized just how nice even as he said it. Like before, he felt covered in dirt, even though he'd taken a twenty minute shower in the hottest water he could get out of the crummy pipes after the assault the day before yesterday.

"You want me to come with you?" BJ asked sitting up slowly. "I think I could use one too."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Pierce."

He stopped and turned.

"When was the last time you ate something?"

"That I didn't throw up later? The day _she_ came, in the morning before I saw her. I tried to eat, but I felt so sick every time she touched me."

"That was six days ago."

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow slightly at the incredibly obvious statement.

"Try to eat something, won't you?"

"I'll try. No promises. I still feel sick."

"That's all I ask."

xxxxxxxxx

"Hawk, what are you doing?" BJ asked as he toweled himself off and slipped into his robe.

"I think it's called showering."

BJ didn't laugh. "You scrub any harder and you'll start bleeding."

"Maybe that would get some of this dirt off," he whispered miserably.

"What are you talking about? I'd be surprised if there's a speck of dirt left on you after that scrubbing."

"Then why do I feel like I'm covered in grime?" Haunted, tear-filled eyes met his.

"I don't know. But you're not."

"I wish I could believe that." He barely got the sentence out in a strangled whisper before emotion overwhelmed him.

BJ flipped off the shower and stepped into the stall. Keeping his eyes averted, he tied a towel around Hawkeye's waist before wrapping him in a hug.

They sank to the floor together, Hawkeye still crying, his hands wrapped in BJ's robe. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Will you stop apologizing already? You're hurt, okay? No one expects you to just bounce back from this. If you need a little comfort, or even a lot, you're entitled. And I'm willing." He tightened his arms around Hawkeye's too-thin body. "I'm here for you, Hawk."

"God, I can't seem to stop crying these days."

"You don't have to." He cradled Hawkeye closer. "Cry all you want. It's okay." He remembered poking fun at Hawkeye for spending so much time in the shower and it burned him. It must have been so hard for him to go on pretending nothing was wrong when he was in so much pain, and they had just kept inadvertently rubbing it in, reminding him constantly of something BJ was sure he'd prefer to forget.

For a long, silent few moments Hawkeye sobbed into the blue robe before pulling himself together. "Come on. Those guys'll be here any minute and I promised the Colonel I'd have a go at breakfast."

"Good idea. You look like you could stand some food."

"When you find some, let me know."

He rubbed Hawkeye's back. "Come on. At least try to eat."

"I said I would."

xxxxxxxxx

"I thought you said you'd eat," BJ whispered. Hawkeye was pushing so-called food around on his plate.

"I have enough trouble eating when I don't already feel sick," he whispered back. But he did force down a few bites of potatoes, followed by a sausage.

"Hawkeye?" Kellye sat down across from him.

He looked up from his tray. "Yeah?" Anything had to be better than trying to eat that stuff.

"Well, we wanted to talk to you."

"Wait. Who's we?"

Able and Baker sat down on either side of her. Any other day, it would probably have been fodder for a few well-placed jokes, but flirting was the last thing on Hawkeye's mind.

"What's this about?"

"It's about the night before last," Kellye said bluntly. BJ saw his friend's shoulders stiffen and sighed. He knew that was the last thing Hawkeye wanted to talk about.

"I know you've had some issues with us girls before," Able continued in the same matter-of-fact way, "but you completely crossed the line with that one. I don't know what the hell happened that she got arrested and not you, but you'd better count yourself damned lucky."

"Don't bet on it," he ground out through his teeth.

"Where do you get off pushing a woman?" Baker demanded.

"Look, I don't want to talk about this. There's more going on than you're aware of."

"So tell us," Kellye insisted.

Hawkeye shook his head. "It's personal."

"You can't expect us to buy that dodge." Kellye wasn't giving up easily.

"Look, just leave me alone, all right?" He sounded angry, but BJ easily caught the edge in his voice that suggested he was close to crying.

"Or what?" She didn't back down. "You'll shove me into a table too?"

"No! I - you don't understand."

"_What_ don't we understand?" Able insisted.

"There were - some personal problems between Lieutenant Monroe and myself. They escalated."

"So you decided to make it physical in a different way than usual?" Baker said sharply.

The meaning of her statement took only a second to click in Hawkeye's mind, bringing with it a flood of images. _Bodies, naked, pressed against each other - pressed against a cold floor - hands on his shoulders - can't get up, can't fight - pain - terror - no, no, stop, please - cot shaking, weight pressing him down - hands on his bare body - please, no - don't - make it stop -_

His stomach twisted. He swung himself over the bench, almost knocking BJ out of the way as he bolted for the door.

The blond doctor glared at the nurses. "Thank you _so much_." He ran after Hawkeye before they could respond.

He found his friend on his hands and knees behind the mess tent, bringing up the little food he'd managed to get down. He put one hand on Hawkeye's forehead, holding him up, and rubbed his back with the other. Tears were running down the doctor's face as he continued dry heaving long after his stomach was empty.

He sat back on his heels, gasping for breath. "I'm sorry."

"Quit saying that. I seem to remember a certain someone doing the same thing for me the day I got here." The hand on his friend's back continued the rubbing. Hawkeye looked so miserable. He leaned tiredly on BJ's legs, trembling visibly.

"Come on." He offered Hawkeye his hand and helped him up, pulling him into a long hug before walking him back to the Swamp.

xxxxxxxxx

"Captain!"

"Yeah?" BJ and Hawkeye answered simultaneously.

"Captain Pierce?"

"Yo?" He replied wearily, still leaning against BJ's shoulder.

"Colonel wants to see you. The people from Judge Advocate General are here."

"You gonna be all right?" BJ asked softly.

"No," he said frankly, "but I'll manage."

"Want me to come with you?"

"I doubt they'd let you in."

BJ hugged his shoulders tightly before reluctantly letting him go. As Hawkeye replaced his sweat-soaked shirt with a fresh one, he waved Klinger over.

"Stick close to him," he whispered. "He's still pretty scared."

"I will," Klinger whispered back.

True to his word, Klinger hung close to Hawkeye's shoulder as they walked across the compound. He noticed Hawkeye looking back at him half a dozen times on the journey. He didn't remember ever seeing anyone so afraid.

"Captain Pierce, sir."

The JAG Captain was standing next to Potter. "You're dismissed, Sergeant."

Klinger nodded. "I'll be in the outer office if you need me."

"Sit down, Pierce," Potter said softly. Hawkeye took a seat in a chair facing the desk.

"Captain, let me make it clear to you first of all that you are accused of nothing. You are a witness in a major case, nothing more."

Hawkeye nodded. "I understand."

"What was the date on which you first met Lieutenant Janice Monroe?"

"May fifteenth, nineteen-fifty-two."

"Can you briefly describe what happened on that date?"

"She approached me in a bar and seduced me into accompanying her to a private place, where several men were waiting."

"How many?" he interrupted.

"Six."

Potter put his face in his hands. He'd been imagining two, maybe three, which was bad enough, but _six_? He felt suddenly ill.

"Then what happened?" the Captain pressed.

"I was pinned down, stripped naked, and - assaulted." He still wanted to avoid _the word_.

"And Lieutenant Monroe was involved?" The man's matter-of-fact tone hadn't changed.

"She assaulted me too." His voice was barely a whisper.

"You're sure it was her?"

"Positive. I recognized everything; her voice, her face, all of it. Except her name, of course, she must have used a fake." He was rambling but he couldn't help it. It was the only recourse he had for coping with his pain in this circumstance.

"A false name?"

"Marissa Cunningham."

The Captain made a note. "Thank you, Captain Pierce. Once we set a trial date, we'll let you know. One more thing. Do you have anyone who can definitely corroborate all or part of your story?"

He nodded slowly. "Mar - Major Houlihan. She saw my injuries after the first assault. She didn't have a way to be sure _who_ did it, but she can confirm the _what_."

"Thanks again, Captain."

The minute the man was out the door Hawkeye sagged over the desk. "Oh, God."

"What is it, son?"

"How can he act like that?" Hawkeye whispered. "He might as well have been asking the time of day."

Potter only nodded. "Sidney will be here in a few hours to help you talk through this." He reached across his desk to touch Hawkeye's shoulder. "In the meantime, why don't you go back to the Swamp?"

He nodded. Potter circled his desk to hug the younger man. "He may not care about the personal aspect, Hawkeye, but we all do."

"That means a lot," he whispered. "Thank you."

**I know this raises more questions than it answers in terms of what you've put in your reviews, but I felt like I needed to put this stuff in here anyway.**

**I changed the day of the incident in Tokyo because I realized that for the original December date, all of Season Four and half of Season Five would have had to pass in four months (I'm operating under the idea that the date given for Potter's start was right in month and day but was 51 instead of 52 in an attempt to have some sort of base for the passage of time) and since the first day of spring occurs earlier in Season Five than the first chapter of this story is set, May makes a lot more sense.  
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**Please review.**


	21. Chapter TwentyOne: Facing What Happened

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

**Minor Trigger Warning: This chapter is very slightly more graphic than anything in this story so far. Still not particularly so, but more than what's in earlier chapters. That section is in _italics_, so if you want to read the chapter without reading that part, it's easy to see and skip over.**

_**Chapter Twenty-One: Facing What Happened**_

"Sherman."

"Sidney. It's right good to see you now."

"What's the situation you didn't want to discuss over the phone?"

"Sit down."

Sidney took the seat. "Serious?"

"Very."

"You're not my mystery patient again, are you?"

"No - though to be fair, I think I may need an ear for awhile. So will quite a few people in this camp. However, your primary patient is Captain Pierce."

"Hawkeye? You said it was a person handling a serious trauma."

"It is. And unfortunately, it happened right here."

"What happened?"

"Well, it starts with something Hawkeye told me you already know about. The attack in Tokyo."

"He told you?" Sidney was genuinely surprised for a change. "The last time I spoke to him about it, he was adamant about not telling anyone."

"Well, that's where current circumstances come in. I don't know if Hawkeye told you, but he never reported the assault."

"He didn't explicitly say one way or the other, but I figured."

"Well, of all the awful coincidences, _that woman_ ended up being assigned to this unit."

"What woman?"

"Oh, when Hawkeye said he hadn't given you any of the details, he really meant _any_."

"He only told me he was raped in Tokyo."

"He was lured into an abandoned room by a woman, supposedly as a place for a private rendezvous, only to be set on by a half-dozen men. She was fully in on it."

"And she ended up _here_?" Sidney repeated. "No wonder Hawkeye decided to tell."

"It's worse, Sidney. He _didn't_ tell anyone except Margaret. She kept harassing him, physically, and he kept his mouth shut because he was so humiliated. The day before yesterday, she raped him again by setting on him while he was asleep." Potter's eyes were full of tears. "Then she tried to come onto him in the Officers' Club, _after_ everything she'd done that same afternoon, and he pushed her, and everyone noticed. I demanded an explanation -" he swallowed hard, against tears or nausea or both. "He gave me one."

Sidney just nodded. "Who else knows?" He knew that was what the comment about multiple people had meant.

"Well, Margaret's known from the start. BJ, the Father, Winchester, and Klinger were in the office when he finally spilled. I'm especially worried about Hunnicutt - besides Pierce himself, of course. He's been nearly going crazy."

"What about Hawkeye? What can you tell me about the way he's reacting?"

"It's not good. I told him I was thinking about calling you, and he all but begged me to. He's hurting so much, Sidney. He's terrified too, won't be left alone. I know he has nightmares and flashbacks, and he's constantly haunted by memories of what happened. He told me he hears their voices in his mind - they taunted him, as if the physical actions weren't bad enough."

"Literally adding insult to injury."

Potter nodded, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his eyes. "Please help him, Sidney. I'm worried out of my skull right now. I've never seen him like this."

"That's what I'm here for. Where is he?"

"Try the Swamp. If he's not there, he'll be in Margaret's tent."

xxxxxxxxx

A tap on the door startled both Margaret and Hawkeye, sitting in her tent, side-by-side on her cot, having one of their frequent conversations about nothing, just so Hawkeye could speak and hear another voice.

"Who's there?" Margaret hoped it wasn't her nurses. After the morning's incident that BJ had told her about, she'd be hard-pressed to explain why he was in her tent, and she didn't want him to have to face them.

"It's Sidney. Is Hawkeye in there with you?"

"Hawkeye's in here," the doctor replied softly.

Sidney opened the door and stepped in. "Major, do you mind if we borrow your tent?"

"Not at all." She hugged Hawkeye and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "If you need me, just have someone come find me."

"She's certainly being protective," Sidney observed, sitting in Margaret's chair.

"Everyone is," Hawkeye said softly. "I don't mind."

"Hawkeye, talk to me. At the risk of being cliched, how do you feel?"

"How do you think I feel?" he said bitterly.

"I don't know. I can take a pretty good guess at some of what you _don't_ feel, but people have very different reactions to trauma, even the exact same trauma."

"I'm sorry, Sidney. I'm just tired of the question. Most of the people asking aren't as interested in an in-depth answer."

"Well, I am. Why don't you give me one?"

"I feel - I feel so many things. Hurt. Scared. Angry." He sighed. "Ashamed."

"Why?" If self-blaming was at the root of Hawkeye's distress, he wanted to get to the bottom of it as quickly as possible. "Why are you ashamed?"

Hawkeye put his face in his hands for a long moment before looking up at Sidney with haunted eyes. "There's so much to be ashamed of. So much that I did."

"What, Hawkeye?"

"You sure you want to hear this?"

"That's what I'm here for."

Hawkeye drew a long breath. "Where do I start?"

"Just tell me what happened that night."

_"Is this it?" Hawkeye stared eagerly at the woman before him. He couldn't wait to be alone with her._

_"This is it." She slid open the door. "Are you coming?"_

_"Of course." He took the hand she extended and let her pull him inside. _

_He noticed strange shadows and turned to see a man standing behind him. Looking around a little, he realized there were six of them._

_"Marissa, I think someone stole our private room." He took her shoulders gently and kissed her, nuzzling the side of her face. "What do you say we go somewhere else, huh?"_

_She laughed, and he noticed it - it was a different laugh from the one he'd heard from her before. "Oh, we're in exactly the right place."_

_He frowned, trying to puzzle out the meaning of her statement. Before he had time to do so, two of the men had grabbed his arms. A third stepped up to him and pulled his shirt off._

_Hawkeye sighed, biting his lip. So they were going to beat him? They probably expected him to fight back for their own amusement. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of fighting a battle he had no chance of winning. Making his choice, difficult though it was, he went limp in the hands of the men who held him, dropping to his knees._

_The third man knelt down with him. He didn't look disappointed at all. In fact, he looked - pleased? Huh?_

_The man's hands went to Hawkeye's belt, unbuckling it, unbuttoning his pants, and bringing the fly down. His eyes roamed Hawkeye's body, from his chest down to his now-exposed boxers and the shape of what lay beneath, before looking up again. The doctor caught his first good look at the man's face. It was twisted in a leer, and he looked extremely pleased as he began to pull off Hawkeye's pants._

_It hit him suddenly, with the force of a speeding train, almost literally taking the breath out of his lungs, what the man intended to do to him. "No," he whispered. "God, please, no."_

_He tried to fight his way loose, but even without being so severely outmatched he was at a disadvantage by being on his knees. The two men bore down on him with their weight, and he knew he had no chance of even getting to his feet, let alone pulling free and running._

_His attacker pulled off his shoes and then finished taking off his pants. He twisted hard when the man began to lower his shorts, but the two men grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to stay still._

_"No," he said again, more forcefully. "No, no. Please don't. Please."_

_The man in front of him started laughing. That set off the others, all in hysterics. Tears of frustration and fear formed in Hawkeye's eyes, but he forced them back._

_He was completely naked now, helpless to do anything but endure their stares and whistles. The man had backed away from him, and - oh, God, he was undressing himself now. _

_He shut his eyes, trying to pretend he was somewhere else, anywhere else. The mess tent. He was walking through the mess tent naked on a bet. If only it hadn't been for that Casey. He wasn't even supposed to be there, although he wouldn't know that until tomorrow, but what difference did that make? The phony doctor had ruined his bet and cost him fifty dollars. Trapper was busily gloating. There were whistles and laughter all around him. That's all it was. Whistling because he'd dared to do such a thing. Well, at least _something_ had finally gotten their attention._

_Hands touched his chest, jarring him painfully out of the memory. The other man was now also fully naked in front of him. Hawkeye could do nothing to fight off the unwanted, terrifying touch._

_Seeing that he was being observed, the man reached over to the pile of his clothing and removed something. A gun, Hawkeye realized, that he was handing to one of the men holding him._

_"You fight," he hissed, "you die. Understand?"_

_Hawkeye didn't react. The man grabbed him by the hair._

_"I said," he thundered, "Do. You. Understand?"_

_He nodded, still trying to force back his tears. He didn't want to let them see how frightened he was._

_"Good."_

_The men holding Hawkeye pulled him roughly to the ground and forced him to lie there. The third man, the naked one, knelt on his legs, immobilizing them._

_Hawkeye pressed his face to the concrete floor, trying again, desperately, to pretend he was anywhere else. But he couldn't. Everything happening around him was far, far too real._

_He cried out in pain at the first violation. Apparently, they found this funny, because Marissa, the three men watching, and the two holding his arms all began to laugh again._

_"Come on," the man on top of him whispered. "Can you tell me you don't find this exciting? Just a little? It's a new experience for you, isn't it?"_

No no no. _He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to just breathe and not scream again. How long could this last?_

_Somehow, the worst of the horror hadn't even occured to him. The man finished and began to dress himself, but the two men holding Hawkeye's arms didn't release him._

_"Turn him over," said another male voice. "I wanna see his face."_

_He was roughly flipped onto his back to see another of the men undressing. "God, no," he whispered before he could stop himself. It had hurt so much the first time, he didn't know how he could do it again. "Please, no more."_

_"Oh, come on. Deep inside, you know you want it."_

_"No!" he defiantly tried to shout, but it only came out as a whisper._

_"Oh, yes."_

_Hawkeye's eyes were shut tight before the man started, but it accomplished very little. He could still hear everything. Could still _feel_ everything that was done to him. This man was rough, deliberately slamming him into the floor over and over again. The men holding him contributed, lifting his shoulders a few inches so he could be thrown back down. The laughter and the voices filled his ears and couldn't be blocked out, the taunts about his body, the insistences that somewhere deep down he _wanted_ what they were doing to him. That man finished, and he was forced into a new position so someone else could have a turn. He didn't even look at this man, didn't want to know which one of them it was. Then he felt the hands on his arm change, and realized that one of the men who'd been holding him would be next. He wished he hadn't. If he had to go through this, he wanted the men to be faceless._

_"Wait!" _Her _voice cut through the laughter. "I brought him in, I want a turn, I earned it."_

_They all laughed and there was a chorus of agreement. He heard clothes coming off, probably hers, and was forced onto his back again. He felt her small, smooth hands on him._

_He tried, desperately, to fight his physiological reaction, but despite the pain and terror in his mind, his body, abused though it was, couldn't help but respond to her touch. He shuddered when she started with him. This was almost worse, because it was an act he'd done many times before, willingly, for his own pleasure, so horribly twisted and perverted._

_She finished and the men started again. They were rough to varying degrees. He hurt everywhere from being turned and thrown and hit and slammed into the floor and the walls, as they used his body in every way they could. It was taking everything in him not to scream, to cry, to show them how much they were hurting him._

_He lost track of who and how many and that was fine by him, he didn't want to know. He didn't know how long it had been going on, either. It felt like forever. _Let it be over, please just let it be over. Let it end. Please, God, make it stop. _He didn't remember ever praying before, but then he didn't remember ever wanting anything as badly as he wanted this to end. But it didn't. It just kept going on and on._

You fight, you die_, the man had said. For a long moment, he considered it. He could fight, maybe hurt one of them. He'd never get out, but they would probably kill him if he provoked them enough. Dying would be better than having to endure this any longer. He wouldn't be able to feel pain or anguish if he was dead._

_No. He couldn't do it. There were too many people counting on him. Despite what he'd told BJ once, he _knew_ how many lives he'd saved at the 4077, how many he saved every time they got wounded, how important he was to the work the unit did. Besides, a letter from a neighbor had told him his father had been a complete mess when he'd been mistakenly pronounced dead. He loved his father more than anyone in the world and couldn't do that to him, no matter what it meant he had to live through._

_Finally, finally, the hands on his shoulders let up and new ones didn't come to take their place. He heard a rustling of clothes and then the door swung open and their laughter faded, muffled when it shut again._

_Hawkeye just lay there where they'd left him. His body ached, he was hurting inside, and he was so afraid. Slowly he rolled onto his side and pulled his knees to his chest, and there, alone, he let the tears fall. Oblivious to the pain it caused his sides, which the doctor in him told him was a signal that the men had cracked some of his ribs, he sobbed._

Hawkeye was crying by the time he finished telling his story in detail for the first time, and he wasn't the only one. No amount of professional anything could prevent the tears that ran down Sidney's face. It would have been hard hearing this story from anyone, but it was agonizing hearing it from a man he considered one of his closest friends.

He moved from the chair to sit on Margaret's bunk next to Hawkeye and took the surgeon into an embrace, holding him like a child while he wept brokenheartedly, clinging to Sidney for dear life, not even noticing the tears dampening his own hair.

"I still don't see what you have to be ashamed of," Sidney said when Hawkeye's crying had eased enough that he should be able to talk. He wasn't just saying it either. Hawkeye's story had shocked and horrified him, but he couldn't see how, even for a second, Hawkeye had been anything but a victim.

"To start with, I blew my own chance to escape when I went down to my knees," he whispered. "If I'd been standing, maybe I could have twisted free and run."

"A slim chance at best."

"Yes, but a chance! Once I went down to my knees, I lost that chance. There was no way then to stop them from - from -"

"You were responding to the information you had at the time. You had no way of knowing what they would do."

"I shouldn't have been there in the first place! I let myself be deceived so easily."

"Hawkeye, she manipulated you. She made you think she was something she wasn't. Haven't you done the same thing before and ended up with nothing but a night to remember?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"How could you have known this one would be different?"

"I don't know. I should have."

"How?" Sidney repeated. He needed Hawkeye to put the pieces together for himself. "Knowing only what you did at the time, without the benefit of hindsight you have now, what could you have done to prevent it?"

"Nothing," he said, his voice soft with realization. "That's it, isn't it? Without knowing what was going to happen, there was no way for me to have prevented it."

Sidney nodded encouragingly. "Exactly. Which means what?"

"It wasn't my fault." Margaret and Potter had said those words to him more than once, but he'd never really believed them, let alone said them himself. Even as he said them, he began to sob again from all the emotions welling up in him. "It wasn't my fault."

"It won't take away the pain, I know," Sidney said softly, "but now you can start to shed the guilt you never should have had to begin with. It _wasn't _your fault, Hawkeye, and you have no reason to be ashamed."

"I do," he whispered through tears. "What about wanting to die, Sidney? I can't blame that on circumstances."

"No? You weren't exactly in normal circumstances at the time. Think about it, Hawkeye. Did you really want to die?"

"In that moment."

"I don't think so, Hawkeye. Think about how you were actually feeling. Was death ultimately what you wanted?"

"Not exactly, I suppose. I just didn't want to have to go through that anymore."

"So you _didn't_ really want to die. You just wanted an alternative to the situation you were in. Have you had any suicidal thoughts since the rape?"

Hawkeye flinched a little at Sidney's candid use of the word he always so carefully avoided. "No."

"In that case, I think it was nothing more than a reaction to a drastic situation, an attempt to find a means of escape. Which, I might add, you saw the better of going through with, an unusually logical response for that level of stress. You don't strike me as suicidal, Hawkeye."

"Sidney, why does it hurt so much?" he asked brokenly.

"I don't have all the answers, Hawkeye." He knew that no matter how he tried to explain it, there would be holes, pieces that didn't fit together, and Hawkeye didn't really want an answer anyway. He just wanted to stop hurting. Sidney wished it were that easy. He wished that, like the man in his arms would for one of his own patients, he could just give him a shot of something that would numb the pain until he was healed. But no, Hawkeye _had_ to feel it in order to get better, and that was the cruelest irony Sidney could imagine. "But I can tell you I'm here to help you through this. It's my job. Now, why don't you tell me what else you're feeling?"

"I'm scared, Sidney. I'm more scared than I was the first time."

"Really?"

"The first time, I was scared of stuff I shouldn't have been. People, mostly, even if they weren't doing anything. I was afraid of Frank when he started screaming. But now - it doesn't even take anything to make me afraid. I can't walk outside without my heart rate going sky-high. I can't do it at all unless someone else is there, especially at night. I almost wet my pants last night because I was too scared to go to the latrine by myself."

"Well, according to Colonel Potter, she was here in this camp. Tell me a little bit about what she did to you." He didn't like forcing Hawkeye to relive it any more than Hawkeye liked telling, but he knew it was necessary.

"The first time, she just talked to me, but it was like we'd been involved, not - you know. Then she surprised me in the Supply Tent. She kissed me like a lover, forced her tongue into my mouth. I don't know what she would have done if Kellye hadn't happened to be looking for her. The same night - I guess I was being stupid, but I'd had such an awful day, I _had_ to see Margaret. _She_ stopped me. She kissed me again, but then she put her hands in my shorts." He swallowed hard, feeling like he might be sick. "I tried to stick by other people as much as I could, but since no one knew I could only take it so far. She was - she was stalking me or something, because she was there every time I was alone. I put up with that for almost five days. And then -"

_He was exhausted. Five straight days of nightmares hadn't let him get much restful sleep. He just wanted to lie down for awhile._

_"Hey, Hawk."_

_Hawkeye only nodded to his bunkmate. BJ frowned. "Hey. Are you okay?"_

_"Yeah, I told you. Just a personal issue."_

_"If you say so." He didn't look entirely convinced. Hawkeye knew he had to come up with a better excuse soon._

_"Well, that and I'm tired." He pulled off his boots. He thought he could probably fall asleep in the Swamp as long as BJ was there. Margaret had looked tired at the end of her shift, and he wanted to let her sleep in peace even if he couldn't._

_"All right. Goodnight, Hawk."_

_He tumbled into an uneasy sleep, riddled with nightmares. One was particularly vivid. It was about _her_, like most of them were, doing what she had done. But it was different. He could _feel_ her hands on him._

_Hawkeye started awake, trying to figure out what was going on. He'd thought he was having another nightmare, but that nightmare wasn't fading away as he woke._

_He opened his eyes and it all came crashing down on him what was happening. Despite having fallen asleep fully clothed, he was now naked. She was lying on top of him, also naked, straddling him and pressing his legs down with hers. He had already penetrated her._

_He tried to fight her off, but her weight was pressing down on him and he couldn't get the leverage he needed. As she continued to caress him, his fear took over, paralyzing him, and his struggles became weaker and even less effective than they had been._

_She finished and climbed off him, kneeling down at his side and pressing her lips into his shoulder. "Wish I could stay longer, but your friend will be back soon."_

BJ. God, yes._ He wanted to be close to BJ, even if he couldn't tell him. Just having his friend there would help him._

_She dressed and then leaned over him, kissing him one final time on the mouth, and then left. Hawkeye lay immobile on his bunk._

Someone will see - they'll know. _This alone forced him to get up and pull on his shirt and shorts before he collapsed back on his bunk. He lay on his side, knees to his chest, shivering. His own bed didn't feel safe anymore._

"So everything that happened the second time happened in the camp." Sidney drew Hawkeye, who was sobbing again, into his shoulder.

Hawkeye nodded.

"Then is it any wonder you're more afraid? Last time it was a foreign country, somewhere you almost never go. This time she invaded your safe zone, the closest thing you have to a home between here and Maine. Of course it's terrifying."

"So what do I do?"

"Take it slow. You're going to have to start doing the things that frighten you, so do them a little at a time. Try a short walk alone during the light of day first, then once you're comfortable with that, increase the stakes a little."

"Sidney, how long are you staying?" The unspoken words were clear: _I can't do this alone._

"As long as you need me, Hawkeye."

**The longest chapter in this story so far I think, and it was only going to be the first half but I decided to put it out there for my eager readers and make the rest a separate chapter.**

**This chapter references the episodes _Dear Dad,_ _Again_ and _The Lat__e Captain Pierce._  
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**For anyone who did read the flashbacks, please keep in mind that my only point of reference is other stories and non-fictional accounts, so if it's inaccurate I did the best I could.**

**Please review.**


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo: The Doctor is In

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Twenty-Two: The Doctor is In**_

"How's he doing, Sidney?"

"He cried himself to sleep. Margaret's with him now."

"I'm worried," the Colonel admitted, though he didn't need to say it for Sidney to know. "He sleeps so much these days. It's not like his body is trying to heal from something."

"First of all, he may be sleeping but I don't know how much rest he's getting. If he keeps waking up with nightmares, the sleep's not doing him nearly as much good. Secondly, he's emotionally exhausted. His emotions are running wild inside him, and it's wearing him out."

"He's always crying these days," Potter said softly, "and he's so clingy, always wanting to be touched and held. I've heard of victims being afraid of contact, but this seems to be the opposite."

"It's not surprising, not really. Think about how Hawkeye is normally. He's an affectionate person by nature. He almost _needs_ to be around people even under normal circumstances. It's just the way he is. He thrives on human interaction. It's part of what makes him such a good doctor."

"Of course. So when he's hurt -"

"That need becomes even more striking. He craves physical comfort and affection to soothe his wounds. Also,he needs to feel safe."

"What?"

"That one's pretty common, actually. Hawkeye's been invaded in one of the worst ways possible, and he's has his sense of safety shattered. He's absolutely petrified that something else will happen to him - that's incredibly typical of trauma victims. He trusts you and BJ and Margaret and the others. As long as he's in the arms of someone he trusts, he feels like he can't be hurt."

"What about the crying?"

"He's hurting, Sherman. It also doesn't help that he spent so long not letting himself express his emotions unless he was alone or with Margaret. This whole past week has been horribly emotionally draining for him, and he's been trying to keep a lid on it so he wouldn't worry all of you."

"So it all just festered."

Sidney nodded sadly. "And now, all that pain, some of which he's kept buried for over a year, is all coming front and center at once, and it's all built up inside him. Tears are his pressure valve, the only one he has. Some people start yelling at everyone, but that's not Hawkeye's style."

"He worries about everyone else first."

"Exactly. So he holds back that anger reflex, and instead it all comes out as grief."

"Is there anything I can do for him?"

"I'm doing it. Hawkeye needs to get this out of his system, and trust me when I say that's something I'd better handle." What Hawkeye had told him would probably haunt his dreams that night, and he'd been specially trained to deal with people who'd gone through horrific situations. He didn't think Sherman or anyone else should hear those details. "Just be a shoulder for him to lean on. In the meantime, I have other patients to counsel. Starting with Hunnicutt."

"Good. Go to him before he drives himself completely insane."

xxxxxxxxx

"Sidney."

"Major Freedman."

The psychiatrist bit back a smile. The contrast between Winchester and his tentmates never ceased to amuse Sidney, from a professional and a personal standpoint. But the urge to smile faded when he took in the blond doctor's pale, exhausted features. BJ looked almost as bad as his friend had.

"Winchester, can I see you outside for a minute?"

"Certainly." The Harvard doctor stood and stepped out the door. "What can I do for you, Major?"

Sidney didn't beat around the bush. "How's Hunnicutt holding up?"

Winchester sighed. "Not well, I'm afraid. He keeps it together whenever he's around Pierce, but as soon as he's not, well, you can see for yourself what he's like." Charles nodded towards the door of the Swamp. "Are you going to talk to him?"

"That's what I'm here for. Do you mind clearing out for awhile?"

"Not at all." He was more worried about his bunkmates, both of them, than he would have liked to admit.

"We'll talk later, Major."

He re-entered the Swamp, waiting for BJ to acknowledge him before sitting down. "How're you doing?"

"Shouldn't you be with Hawkeye?"

"He's asleep. You therefore become more interesting."

"Sidney, how is he?"

"Oh, no you don't. We were talking about you."

"_You_ were talking about me. I want to know how he is."

"Don't worry, BJ. He's going to be all right. Now I'd like to get back to you."

"Why me?"

"Because you're as white as a sheet. Well, at least as white as the sheets get over here." BJ didn't even crack a smile. "You present the appearance of a man with a problem."

"You think?"

"You want to talk about it?"

"My problem is that my best friend - scratch that, my _brother _- was _raped_, multiple times no less. I think it should be obvious." He took a long drink from the glass in his hands. "You can't begin to imagine how I feel every time he starts to cry, Sidney."

"Tell me."

"Mostly, I just want to go to him and hold him and reassure him that everything will be all right even though I know it won't so I don't say anything even though I want to. It's heartbreaking to have to watch him go through this and know that all I can do is hold him and let him cry. I would do _anything_ to take his pain away, and it kills me that nothing I do will make any difference."

"I wouldn't say that."

"No? What the hell could I do to make this any better?"

"You said it yourself. How does Hawkeye react when you hold him?"

BJ's voice was tight with tears when he replied. "He hangs onto me like his life depends on it."

"Then how can you say you're doing nothing, when he so clearly needs you to do what you're doing?"

"I never thought of it quite that way."

"Maybe you should put that glass down before you break it in half." Sidney couldn't fail to notice how tightly BJ was gripping the stem.

"What?"

Shaking his head, Sidney liberated the glass and placed it under the still. "Something you want to get off your chest?"

"Sidney, how can people _do_ something so horrible?" His eyes finally met Sidney's and the psychiatrist could see the tempest that lurked beneath them. "And why Hawkeye? He's the kindest, gentlest person I've ever known. What gives them the right to put someone through so much pain for their own pleasure? Especially someone like him? What the hell gives them that right?"

Sidney said nothing. Just like he'd needed to let Hawkeye cry, he needed to let BJ get this out of his system too.

"Why, Sidney? What did he do to deserve this?"

That required some sort of response. "He didn't do anything, BJ. Sometimes awful things happen to the people who least deserve them."

"It's not fair! Who do those people think they are?" His eyes blazed. "I thank God that she's locked up and I don't know who the others are."

"Why's that?"

He drew a slow breath, and the look in his eyes scared the Major. "Because I'm not a murderer and I don't want to be. But if I had the chance, I would kill every son of a bitch who hurt the best friend I've ever had."

"You don't mean that." It was half a statement of fact and half a hope, because he wasn't entirely sure.

"Honestly, I don't know," he admitted. "On one hand, I've never intentionally killed anyone. I have enough trouble with the boys I can't save, I don't know if I could ever actually take a life. On the other - I am _so angry_, Sidney. _How dare they_?" He was shouting now. "How dare they hurt a man so badly he can't feel safe in his own bed unless someone's there to hold him? How dare they waltz into the life of a man who's taken and lived by an oath to never harm a human being and rip that life all to shreds? As long as I live, I will never forgive them, and I will _never_ forget what they did." His voice dropped in volume significantly, but the way he spoke was even more powerful, taking on a fierce protectiveness. "I love Hawkeye so much, and I _despise_ each and every one of them for what they did to him."

Professionalism be damned. "I hate them too, BJ."

"It's not fair," he repeated. "God, it's n-n-not -" He left his sentence unfinished as he broke down crying, his legs folding underneath him.

He missed his cot entirely, falling heavily to the floor. Sidney got down on his knees, carefully wrapping BJ in his arms. "Come on. Let it out."

He broke down as he remembered doing only once before, when his daughter had called Radar 'Daddy'. He'd forced himself to bury his own emotions on this situation to this point. Hawkeye's well-being had to be his priority. But here, now, when it was just him and Sidney, he could give voice to everything he wouldn't let Hawkeye see lest his friend try to take care of _him_. All he knew was that nothing that had ever happened in his life had hurt and angered him this much. Not his daughter calling someone else the name that should have been his, not the kid he'd had to leave to die, not even the innumerable wounded he hadn't been able to save. Erin's little mistake seemed so much less significant of a thing to be angry about now. No one had been seriously hurt. And none of the dead and wounded had come close to meaning as much as Hawkeye did to him. He knew it was probably wrong from an objective standpoint, but he couldn't care less.

"I feel so awful," he sobbed.

"Why?"

"I didn't _know_, so I didn't know I should be gentle with him. I said and did so many things I never would have if I'd known he'd been through that."

"Like what?"

"We got into a fight," he said softly, "a few months ago, about how much I miss Erin and Peg and wanted to be there for them, and he said no one wanted to get out of here as badly as he did. Of course they don't - I can't imagine how badly he wants to go home after all this, to be in his dad's arms instead of Margaret's and mine, to be those ten thousand miles from where he was hurt. But I just dismissed it, all but laughed in his face, because no one could _possibly _want to go home as much as I did. Could I have been any more insensitive?"

"You didn't know," Sidney pointed out. "And it's not like that was right after the first incident. For all you know, that wasn't even what he meant. He's been here longer than anyone who's currently here, that very well may have been all he meant."

"There's more," he said miserably. "Last month we made a bet, and he lost - I made him stand on a table and sing without his pants." Fresh tears followed this. "I thought it was funny, but _God_. Doing something like that to a rape victim -"

"Was the result clear when Hawkeye made the bet?"

"Well, yes -"

"Then he knew what he was getting into. If it really bothered him, he could have refused the bet. BJ, it's not like he was feeling this awful the entire time. He's in the early stages of trauma recovery now. You weren't watching when he was going through this all last time, so you didn't see the progress he made. If this hadn't happened, I doubt the first incident would be more than a dark spot in the back of his mind now."

"He was acting strange," BJ said tearfully. "You know, when it first happened? And I was so insensitive. I poked fun at him for spending so much time in the shower. He feels dirty, tainted, Sidney, and I know that now. But instead of being there for him, teased him about something that was probably eating him up inside. I wasn't paying attention - I didn't pay attention to the look on his face. Now I can't get that almost haunted look out of my mind."

"You didn't know. Hawkeye _knew_ you didn't know, he's the one who insisted you not be told."

"He was protecting me," BJ whispered brokenly. "How can a person go through something so horrible and still decide that he should be the one protecting me?"

"That's how he is, BJ. He heals himself by taking care of others. BJ, there is no reason to feel guilty!" It hit him how much this was exactly like what he'd had to tell Hawkeye. "There's nothing you could have done differently."

"Yes, there is." His voice was heavy with pain. "I was in here, you know."

"BJ, you're in here all the time. You'll have to be more specific."

"Day before yesterday. Hawkeye came in here and went to sleep, and I decided to go get something to eat. I came back maybe an hour later. Somewhere in there, she walked into the tent and raped him. If I had just stayed, she wouldn't have gotten that chance."

"You _couldn't_ have known what would happen."

"I hate this, Sidney," he said finally. "I'm a doctor, and there's not a thing I can do to make it better. If he'd gotten a big wound or something I would give him a shot of morphine, to keep him out of pain until it healed. I wish there was something I could give him now, to take the pain away while this heals."

"So do I. Believe me."

"What can I do for him?"

"What you've been doing is a good start. Once he gets a little better, guiding him to get back in his normal routine is a good place to go. He can't hide in his tent forever. Sooner or later, you'll have to convince him to start walking around by himself. And in the meantime, stop blaming yourself. That's not going to do you or him or anyone else any good."

"I'll try, Sidney."

"That's the best I could ask for."

xxxxxxxxx

"Major, would you join me in the VIP tent?"

Charles turned towards the psychiatrist. "Why not?" He followed Sidney into the tent. "Is this about Hawkeye?"

Sidney caught the Major's use of his fellow surgeon's nickname but chose to refrain from commenting. "Yes. And about you."

"What about me?"

"You can't tell me this doesn't affect you."

"You're right," he said softly, "I can't. It does."

"How do you feel about this?"

"I feel like a fish out of water," he admitted. "I mean, nothing is normal here anyway, but _this_. It's not something I've ever really thought about, here or anywhere. When it happens to women, it's hushed up quickly, which is bad enough. But men - it's supposed to be something that happens in prisons or to, you know, homosexuals, or that occasional little boy who runs across the neighborhood creep, not a doctor on R&R." He realized with horror what he'd unthinkingly said as soon as it was out of his mouth. "Not that it would be _right_ if it happened to someone in one of those circumstances, but when you think about rape of a male, that's what you think about, not -"

"Someone like Hawkeye."

"Exactly. And that's male-on-male. The idea of what _she_ did - that's not supposed to happen at all." Again, he caught himself a second too late. "I mean, none of it's supposed to happen, but I'd bet most people wouldn't think a woman is capable of raping a man." He sighed. "Why is it so hard to say all this? I've never had trouble with language before, and now I keep saying all these things that sound so callous and even cruel even as I hear them."

"This isn't something you're prepared to deal with. It isn't something anyone's prepared to deal with, in men or women. Like you said, it gets shoved under the rug, and it's seen as something that only happens to certain kinds of people."

"Why?"

Sidney eyed him sadly. "Because people want to believe it couldn't happen to them. They try to come up with reasons the victims are different than themselves, because if the victims are people just like them they have to face the possibility that they could just as easily have _been_ the victims. It's horrible, but it's a defense mechanism."

Charles shook his head. "I don't know what to do. I know I hurt him in the week where she was here and I didn't know what she'd done. I _liked _her, and I wasn't shy about saying so. I got off my shift the day she assaulted him in the Swamp, walked into my tent and started talking about how wonderful she was. He just lay there, not responding to anything I said, and I kept talking, trying to get a _reaction_ out of him. It must have been so painful, rubbing salt in a fresh wound, and I just wouldn't let up." He buried his face in his hands. "He said it over and over: 'Leave me alone, Charles. Please just leave me alone.' Dear God, what did I do to him?"

"Have you spoken to him about this?"

"I mentioned it. He told me not to feel bad about her tricking me, but he never said anything about the way I treated him."

"But he spoke to you."

"Well, yes."

"That's a good sign. I must admit, I'm a little surprised that you're so worried. Last I checked, you despised him."

"That's not true. I don't hate him, Major. I don't love him by a long shot, but I don't hate him. I might go so far as to say he's a friend." Charles paused. "Sometimes. Besides, I wouldn't wish everything he's been through on my worst enemy, and for all his faults Hawkeye is far from my worst enemy."

"That's the second time today you've called him Hawkeye."

"Well - we've made a few breakthroughs. Right now he needs me to be a friend, so that's what I'll be. When he goes back to playing bad practical jokes, I'll start calling him Pierce again."

Sidney smiled to himself. He'd always suspected there was something under Winchester's tough exterior. The care he exhibited for his bunkmate only confirmed this hypothesis.

"Go to him. Explain what you told me. Like I was just telling BJ, Hawkeye is hardly unaware that you two didn't know what he'd been through. He was the one who insisted on it. I'm sure he'll accept an -"

"_Attention all personnel! Incoming wounded! Repeat, incoming wounded!_"

"Oh, God." Charles sighed. "So we've got a surgeon who's laid up from emotional trauma and one who's a nervous wreck."

Sidney looked over at him. "I don't think you should go condemning your patients so readily."

**We'll get sessions with Margaret and Klinger later, and some much-needed talks between Hawkeye and his bunkmates, but I wanted to get Hawkeye some occupational therapy, as it were, and you guys a new chapter.**

**Sorry this took so long to finish. I had wisdom tooth surgery, followed by the start of a new job, followed by a series of plot bunnies - for other stories! (If you want to see where the bunnies took me, especially if you're a Trapper fan, check out my new M*A*S*H oneshot _Saying Goodbye_.)**

**This chapter references _Period of Adjustment_ and _The Joker is Wild._**

**Sidney's quote, "You present the appearance of a man with a problem," is shamelessly stolen from a movie that opened a few years after M*A*S*H ended. Special brownie points to anyone who gets the reference!**

**Please review.**


	23. Chapter TwentyThree: Bigger Than Me

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Twenty-Three: Bigger Than Me  
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"Suction. Sponge."

The eyes of all the surgeons had been on Hawkeye, but no one who didn't know there was a problem would have suspected anything. Hawkeye was more like himself than he'd been since the day they got the new nurses in.

"Suction." Peterson's voice was terse. Hawkeye flinched almost imperceptibly. The nurses still hadn't forgotten what had happened, and to them it looked like Hawkeye had been the one at fault and had somehow escaped punishment.

"Blood pressure's dropping," Kellye reported.

"Clamp! Clamp, come on!" He hurried to slow the bleeding, but there were a lot of holes to close.

"Can't get a pressure. I've lost the pulse!"

Hawkeye began to compress the chest. "Anything?"

"Nothing!"

"Corpsman!" Peterson shouted.

"Cancel that! Scalpel."

"Doctor -"

"I said give me a scalpel."

"But Captain -"

"Forget it. Margaret! I need your help over here!"

"Lieutenant Peterson, give the doctor what he asked for and then get over here and help Captain Hunnicutt!"

She slapped a scalpel into his hand before stepping away and replacing her gloves. Hawkeye cut carefully into the chest.

"Rib spreader," said a voice, echoing the words that had been about to pass Hawkeye's lips. He half-smiled. He hadn't just called on Margaret because she was the only nurse who didn't hate him. She'd assisted on this procedure a half dozen times at least, and she knew what he was doing and what he would need.

"Pull them apart. Give me more, I can't see." He was vaguely aware that the two new nurses were watching him, clearly wondering what on Earth he was doing, but he paid them no mind as he plunged his hand into the man's chest.

"Kellye, bag him!"

Whatever the problems between them, the Hawaiian nurse was a consummate professional. Hawkeye continued to massage the heart. "Come on, come on, don't you dare give up on me!"

"I'm getting a pulse," Kellye reported hesitantly. "It's stronger. Pressure's coming back up."

"All right, come on, let's close these holes before he has a chance to go sour again."

"Doctor, that was amazing," Jennings said softly from where she was working with Winchester.

"Yeah." His response was short, and Margaret knew he was just a little overwhelmed, even though he'd done this procedure before.

"Well you don't have to be snotty about it."

They were right back to where they had been. Margaret didn't need to see Hawkeye's face to know that a wave of anguish had just crossed it.

xxxxxxxxx

"How you feeling, son?" Potter laid a hand on Hawkeye's shoulder as the younger man sat with his head in his hands.

"I don't know. I've been saying that a lot these days, haven't I?"

"That's okay."

"I feel - I feel better than I've felt in days. There's something about getting back in there, doing what I've always done - it was like for the first time since, you know, _it_ happened, I was myself. The last few days have been like being stuck on a ship caught in a hurricane. And now - well, I'm not on dry land yet, but the seas have calmed enough that I can walk on the deck again, you know?"

He hugged the younger man tightly as tears, mostly of relief, welled up in his eyes. "That's good, son. That's good."

"That was some good work you did," Margaret added, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"How's the patient?"

She knew who he meant. "He's doing pretty well, actually." It wasn't until after he'd finished that she had remembered that the first patient he'd performed that operation on had died four hours later. Not that there was really anything else they could have done, but it had terrified her. Hawkeye's emotional state was already so fragile. What would a blow like that have done to him? She was grateful beyond words that they wouldn't have to find out. She ran her hand down his arm until she could take his hand.

"I'm sorry about my nurses," she said softly. "I'll talk to them."

"You don't have to. If I had done what they think I did -"

"But you didn't." She sat down next to him. As Potter took a step away from them to let them talk, she leaned into his shoulder. "You don't deserve the way they've been treating you."

Hawkeye didn't feel strong enough to argue, and he knew Margaret would do what she wanted regardless of what he told her to do.

"Pierce, can you get back in the game?" Potter asked gently.

He could barely hold his eyes open, but he doubted anyone else was much better. "Yeah, I think so."

"I'll put you at the end of the rotations. That'll give you some time to sleep."

"Thanks." He should have known he couldn't fool the old man.

"Go to bed, Hawkeye."

"I'm going, I'm going."

xxxxxxxxx

"Morning, Hawk."

He lifted his head. "Is it morning?"

"No, it's afternoon," BJ replied, "but you missed morning completely."

"Thanks for letting me sleep." He caught a grimace on BJ's face. "Oh, God. What happened?"

"You started shaking and crying in your sleep. I couldn't wake you so I ended up getting onto your cot with you and holding you for a few hours. I hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's all right." He touched his friend's shoulder gently. "Hey, Peg sent me another care package. You want some peanut butter cookies?"

"Sure." He reached for the box BJ offered him and took one.

He took a small bite. It tasted wonderful. Despite being a ladies' man, there were a lot of things he envied about BJ for being married. His wife's cooking was one of them.

It didn't hurt that, as he realized suddenly, he was starving. He took another bite, quickly devouring the cookie, and reached for another one. Three more cookies disappeared before he forced himself to stop.

"I'm sorry, Beej. I didn't mean to take all your food."

He waved that away. "Don't worry, Hawk. She'll send more. You look famished. Eat."

"You sure?" Hawkeye's longing look never left the tin. He didn't want to take all of BJ's food, but _god_ he was so hungry.

"Hawkeye, you haven't eaten in three days. You haven't eaten anything that didn't come back up later in a week." He pushed the item in question closer to his friend. "You need those cookies more than I do. Take as much as you want."

"Well, if you're sure..." he took another one and stuffed it in his mouth. He couldn't help it. It was impossible to resist food when it was sitting there right in front of him, so freely offered.

BJ couldn't help smiling. It was such a relief to see his friend eating. "I'm sure, Hawk. Go on."

Several more cookies followed those Hawkeye had already consumed. BJ made a mental note to get some of the other personnel to contribute gift food. If that was what it took to get Hawkeye to give his body some sustenance, he would do everything he could to make sure it was available.

"God, I'm sorry, Beej."

"What the hell for?"

"For all of this. For crying all over you so much, for demanding so much attention, for taking your food and making you pick up the slack for me in Post-op. For making you sit up with me all the time. I'm being such a child about all this, damn it. I should just deal with it and not get you involved."

"Oh, Hawk!" Instantly, BJ had stood and crossed the small distance between his cot and Hawkeye's. "Is that really what you think?"

"It's really what it is."

"God, no, no." He gently put an arm around his friend's shoulder. "Hawkeye, you've been hurt."

"Three days ago."

"That's hardly enough time to recover. You're getting better, Hawk. It doesn't have to happen all at once. And in the meantime, you have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. We all help each other here, and frankly I can't remember a time until now when you weren't the one doing the helping. If anything, I'm the one who should be sorry."

"What are you talking about?"

"I treated you like hell, and I'm sorrier than I can explain. I should never have made you do that thing on the table. I shouldn't have teased you about spending so much time in the shower. I shouldn't have acted like - how did Margaret put it? - my brand of suffering was worse than anyone else's. I can't even imagine how much this has to hurt you, Hawk. And more than anything, I left this damn tent while you were sleeping. You probably thought you'd be safe because I was here, and then I just left. I'm so sorry."

"Beej, I didn't tell you." Hawkeye turned to hug his best friend. "I didn't ask you to stay. It's not your fault. Please, stop feeling guilty."

"Fine. But it's not your fault either." He tightened the embrace. "I owe you way, way more than I could ever repay. You're in pain, Hawk. If you need me to help you, there's nothing wrong with that. You're not being a child. You're just trying to deal with one of the worst things that's ever happened to you. No one expects you to just get over it. You _are_ getting better. You worked as hard as you ever do in OR. You walked back here without checking to see where I was. You slept without having any major nightmares." He pulled Hawkeye even closer. "You're going to be okay, Hawk. But in the meantime, there's nothing wrong with admitting you need help."

"Thank you." His friend's arms were still the safest place in Korea, and his words were soothing beyond explanation. He _did_ need help. He just never felt comfortable asking for it. "Thank you so much for everything."

"Don't mention it." He held Hawkeye closer still. "I'm here as long as you need me to be."

xxxxxxxxx

"Hello, Klinger."

"Don't tell me. Now that I've stopped bucking for a Section 8, you've decided I'm crazy."

Sidney smiled despite himself. "I'm afraid that's not it."

"Aw, damn it." He grew serious quickly. "This about Captain Pierce?"

"Yes. And about you. How are you feeling about all this?"

"If I started talking about that, I'd end up trashing this office. Trust me, I get on a rant and nothing is safe. A couple years ago I started talking to Hawkeye about how angry I was at Zale and I started throwing things at him while he was trying to give me a shot." He laughed a little, sadly. "Come to think of it, that was probably right around the same time the first attack happened. God, I feel awful now. The last thing he needed was me making his job harder."

"You want to know how many times I've heard that today? Klinger, everyone in this camp feels bad."

"What?"

"You all feel like there's something you should have done differently, like you should have handled him with kid gloves."

"Watching him cry like that, I think we should have."

"As I've already told two people, Hawkeye made the choice to only tell one person."

"Yeah, and in a way I'm glad he did."

Sidney raised an eyebrow. _That_ one he hadn't heard before.

"Well, think about who was in camp then. Burns wouldn't have been sympathetic to him no matter what the circumstances, might have even messed with him about it. It would have been the worst possible thing that could happen to him, if that weasel had actually tried to taunt him about it. And can you imagine what it would have done to Radar if he'd known?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "It might have completely panicked him, but on the other hand -"

"He might have turned into the rock we all knew and loved," Klinger finished. "Now that I think about it. there's a chance he knew without ever having to be told."

"Knowing Radar, he probably did. But we're not here to talk about Radar."

"Me."

"You."

"Look, it's not like I've never heard of this kind of thing happening before. Cities are cities, after all, and it's not like Toledo is perfect, for all I love it. But there's a difference between hearing a third-hand rumor about someone I barely know and watching one of my best friends fall apart in his bunkmate's arms after confessing that he was gang-raped and then assaulted again by one of our nurses, and maybe that's wrong but it's just how I feel."

"If everyone reacted to the suffering of strangers the same way they do the suffering of their friends, none of us would be here in Korea."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Klinger, you're human. From the standpoint of pure morality it may seem wrong, but it is human nature. There isn't a person in the world who can honestly say they're not that way. You care about Hawkeye. You have a close bond with him. You care about his feelings, so when he's hurt it hurts you, in a way it doesn't when it's a stranger."

"It's normal, Sidney? The way I feel?"

"Of course it is."

"What do I do?"

"I think you try to be normal. I know it's tempting to treat Hawkeye like he's made of glass, but take your cues from him and try to continue doing what you would have if this had never happened. Maybe you give a few more hugs and a little more kindness, a little less joking and a few less arguments, but don't completely change the way you behave. That won't help Hawkeye."

"Okay, Sidney."

xxxxxxxxx

"Ah, Pierce."

"Charles."

"Can I see you outside for a moment?"

"Yeah, sure." He followed Charles into the scrub room. "What is it, that open heart massage patient?"

"No. Pierce - Hawkeye - I want to formally apologize for the way I behaved."

"Charles -"

"No, allow me to finish. Regardless of whether or not I knew what had happened, I completely ignored your repeated requests to be left in peace. Instead, I continued to bother you, about the very thing I am sure you wanted to forget, no less. I am sure it felt like rubbing salt in an open wound."

"It doesn't -"

"You don't have to lie."

"All right." His head lowered. "It _did_ hurt. It hurt like hell. But it wasn't your fault. We poke fun at each other all the time. We bug each other. It's the basis of our relationship. I've done the same to you."

"No, Hawkeye, you have not. The closest you have ever come was taunting me over losing that job, and that's hardly the same. A job is a job, no matter how important or rare. It can't have hurt as much as you were hurting."

"You didn't know how much pain I was in. Under any other circumstances, I would have deserved it. How could you have known that that one time you were going too far?"

"Hawkeye -"

"Charles, I forgive you, okay?"

Before he could stop himself, Charles stepped forward and embraced his fellow surgeon. Hawkeye tensed, but from surprise, not fear. He quickly relaxed and hugged Winchester back.

"Thanks, Charles," he said in a somewhat watery voice as they separated.

"Anytime." He met Hawkeye's eyes. "I mean it."

A quick, weak, but very genuine smile flashed across Hawkeye's lips. "You know, when you first came here I offered you an olive branch."

"And I refused. Rather blatantly. In my defense, I was unaware of the duration of my stay. Had I been, I might have done things differently. But the fact remains, I rejected your offer of friendship."

"Well, you see, Charles, there's this thing about me. I don't like to take no for an answer. The branch is still there if you change your mind. Now is there anything I should know about the patients?"

Charles smiled genuinely, knowing Hawkeye had spared him having to answer. "Just one. Corporal Jacobson. He's been giving all of us some difficulty."

"How's that?"

"He makes a fuss every time anyone tries to get near him. He had to be sedated so we could change his dressing."

"Jacobson, Jacobson - which one is he?"

"He was hit in the thigh and the shoulder. It's really the leg wound he's been especially difficult. Maybe you will have better luck."

"I hope so."

Charles left and Hawkeye walked back into post-op. Kellye was there, having relieved Baker. She gave him a slight, unreadable glance and then leaned down to check on one of her patients.

He batted her hand away. She frowned and tried again, with the same result.

"Don't!" he snapped. Hawkeye realized that this had to be Jacobson, the corporal who had been giving Charles trouble.

"I need to take your blood pressure," Kellye said patiently. Hawkeye didn't think of her as the second-best nurse at the 4077 for nothing.

"Don't touch me!"

Hawkeye looked up suddenly.

"I need to change your dressings."

"No!" That was even more vehement. The man looked around frantically, and the doctor got a glimpse of his face. The terror on his face was familiar. Hawkeye had seen it before. In the mirror.

"Nurse." Hawkeye stepped up behind Kellye. "Can we move him to that bed over there?" He indicated a bed in the corner with two empty beds next to it. It was a good thing, he thought, that post-op wasn't that crowded on this particular day.

"Doctor -"

"Do it. This is important." He wanted to do something, maybe touch the young man's shoulder, but the way the kid was acting that might just make everything worse.

"Hey, what's this all about?" he protested as two corpsmen moved him to the new location.

Hawkeye sat down on the next cot. "I just want to talk to you. I didn't think you'd want this to be overheard."

"Just - just stay right over there!"

"I will, don't worry. Look, I know you're afraid. I also know you don't just get this way for no reason. No one does. What happened? Was it the battle?"

He didn't say anything.

"Look, you can tell me, okay? I won't judge."

Still no reaction.

"Would you rather talk to someone else? We have a psychiatrist in camp and our chaplain is always willing to lend an ear to anyone's problems, religious or otherwise."

"No!" Finally, he responded. "I don't need someone messing around in my head, and I don't need any holier-than-thou preaching either!"

_He was awfully quick to jump to conclusions about what Father Mulcahy would do,_ Hawkeye thought to himself. _Either he has a deep-seated hatred of the church or he's already tried to talk to a chaplain with negative results, and my money is on the latter_.

"Then me. I won't preach and I won't mess around in your head. I just want to help you."

"You can't help me."

"Maybe, maybe not. Sometimes just talking helps."

"You won't believe me."

"Yes I will." He said it instantly. He knew _that_ fear so well, and he knew that he would believe whatever he was told, because the Corporal looked like he needed to be believed.

He spoke softly, trying to make sure no one heard. "Well, something happened to me the last time I was in Tokyo, about a month ago. There was this girl..."

_Oh, God_. Hawkeye was suddenly even more all ears than he had been. He suspected he knew what was coming.

"She talked me into going with her - I don't suppose I needed much talking. Took me to this place, and there were these men and they - they -"

"Easy. Take your time," Hawkeye said, trying to sound comforting. He knew so well how much pain the young man was in.

"They did - horrible things to me. You know - sexually. Like guys do with girls - but to _me_."

"Is that why you don't want anyone touching or coming near you?" he asked gently, without any accusation, already knowing the answer.

"Oh, God, doc." His face crumpled in an expression that suggested he was forcing back tears with everything he had. "You don't get it. You don't understand. It's not _you_, it's just that any time anyone tries to touch me or get near me, especially so close to, you know, there."

"I know. It's all right - I mean, it's _not_ all right what happened, but it's all right for you to feel the way you do. I know. I know."

"You don't know. You have no idea."

"The woman - was she about five foot four, golden blond hair -?"

"Big green eyes, fair skin, sort of willowy?"

"Called herself Marissa Cunningham?"

"Yeah." He finally stopped long enough to take in his doctor. "Wait. How do you...?"

The pain in Hawkeye's face was the only answer he got - the only one he needed.

"Oh, God, Doc, I'm sorry."

Hawkeye tentatively reached a hand out to him. For a long moment, the Corporal just stared. Then he reached out his good hand and placed it in Hawkeye's. Hawkeye stroked the man's hand with his thumb, trying to provide some comfort.

"I don't know if this helps at all," he said softly, "but the woman who orchestrated all this won't be hurting anyone anymore. She's been arrested."

"Really?"

"I promise you." Hawkeye saw the man's face contort again. "Would you like to continue this conversation somewhere more private?"

Jacobson didn't even hesitate this time before nodding.

xxxxxxxxx

Jacobson was barely able to wait until the corpsmen left the room before he began to sob, unable to hold it back any longer. Hawkeye knew immediately that he had been keeping it all locked inside since it had first happened. Not for the first time, he thanked whatever God there was for the luck that had given him a friend like Margaret to take care of him after he had been attacked. He tentatively embraced the Corporal, ready to back off if he showed any signs that it made him uncomfortable. But it turned out to be unnecessary. Jacobson wrapped his good arm firmly around Hawkeye's waist as he wept, all fear gone where the doctor was concerned. Hawkeye began to cry too. The corporal's agony tugged at his heart, and his own pain was so raw, that he couldn't help it.

"Thanks, Doc," he whispered hoarsely when he'd run out of tears.

"You tell anyone?" Hawkeye asked softly.

"Yeah, I told my unit chaplain. He - he didn't react well."

"What happened?" Hawkeye had already suspected as much.

"He lectured me. Lectured _me_. I was looking for - solace, I guess, someone to talk to, and instead he gets on my case about fidelity and exclusive relationships and the sin of homosexuality - like I wanted this to happen! Like I wouldn't have walked out of that damned room in a second if I could have. Like I wasn't sitting there hurting so bad I could barely walk and almost in tears remembering what - what they did to me, what they made me do." He swallowed, as though trying to get this all out before emotion stopped up his throat. "After that, I didn't tell anyone else. I was going to, maybe. I wanted to talk to our medic, get something for the pain, and then I was going to tell my Lieutenant. He's a good guy, I thought he'd help me. But after what happened, I couldn't. I was so sure no one would listen."

"Including me." There was no bite at all to this. Hawkeye would never forget those few awful seconds when Sidney had thought he was joking. What the corporal had gone through with his chaplain had to have been so much worse.

"Yeah."

"Would you like to tell someone?" Hawkeye had no intention of forcing him to speak, but wanted to offer the option.

"Who?" The man looked desperate. Desperate to tell someone who would listen, who wouldn't dismiss him or pass judgment.

"My CO was the one who helped get her arrested. I'm sure he would listen."

"He know about you?"

"Yeah." He still held the younger man in his arms. "And after that, it might be worth you talking to our own chaplain."

"Why?"

"To try and undo some of the damage your chaplain did. All priests aren't created equal. If my own experience is any indication, you'll have a very different talk."

"Okay," he said finally. "Okay, I will."

xxxxxxxxx

"Doctor!"

Kellye sounded almost frantic. Hawkeye turned to face her. Tears were shimmering in her eyes.

Forget getting Father Mulcahy for the moment. This looked more important. "Kellye, what's wrong?"

"I - well, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard some of what you said in Post-op. I heard your description - it fits Janice to a T. And I heard what Jacobson told you happened to him, and I can guess from his reaction what you were getting at - and what it was that your problem was with _her_. I'm right, aren't I? What happened to him, with those men - she did the same to you?"

Hawkeye nodded slightly, resignedly. "With them - and herself," he admitted, forcing the tears in his own eyes back.

"While she was here?" Kellye asked.

Hawkeye was sure he would cry if he tried to speak, so he nodded.

The nurse's hand tentatively brushed his arm. "Major Houlihan told us earlier that we needed to lay off you, that you didn't deserve everything we were saying to you. Well - now I know she was right. I'm sorry, Hawkeye. There's nothing I can say to excuse my behavior, except that if I had known what she did to you I never would have said the things I did. I never would have taken her side, and I know the same goes for the other girls." The tears in her eyes were more pronounced now. "Hawkeye, I'm so, _so_ sorry. I'm sorry about what happened and I'm sorry about the way I acted."

Her hand touched his, and his fingers folded around hers. "I don't want you to pity me."

"I don't." She met his eyes earnestly. "There's a difference between pity and wishing something hadn't happened to someone." She momentarily tightened her grip on his hand. "I wish with all my heart you hadn't had to go through that. And more than that I wish I hadn't given you such a hard time."

"I just wanted her to get her hands off me," he said brokenly.

"I know. I know now. I'm sorry." She knew how many times she had said that already, but it was the only thing she seemed to know how to say.

"You didn't know."

"I know _you_. I went out with you for a month. You would _never_ hit or push a woman. I should have actually thought it through instead of letting my emotions and the other girls drive what I thought." On impulse, she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek gently. "I'll tell the others to lay off."

"If they haven't listened to Margaret -"

"What if I tell them? I mean, I'll tell them that I know what happened and you had a reason. They'll listen, Hawkeye. Please. I don't want you to keep having to deal with this. I care too much about you."

"Just - just don't tell them the whole story."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want everyone to know that I was - you know, that I went through that. Some people will always judge, and I don't want that. I don't want the rumors to follow me around. I couldn't stand that."

"Okay, Hawkeye. I promise." She gently ran her hand over his shoulder. "Just let me know if you need anything from me. Please."

He nodded. "Thank you."

"It's the least I can do after how I hurt you."

"No, I - I meant thank you for being so sympathetic."

That caused several tears to spill out of her eyes. "Oh, Hawkeye -" she squeezed the hand she still held tightly, but couldn't come up with anything to say.

"Actually, there is something you can do."

"Name it."

"Can you go get Father Mulcahy? If you see Sidney, get him too."

"Is that why he's here? To help you?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, but I want him for Jacobson. Do you mind? I'd kind of rather not have to walk across the compound in the dark."

A look of sad understanding crossed her face. "Of course I don't mind." She kissed his cheek again. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

xxxxxxxxx

"Father?"

"Oh - sorry, Sidney. I was lost in prayer."

"I could see that."

"Please, sit down."

"Can you take a break to talk to me?"

"I might as well. I'm not getting any answers from the person I'm trying to talk to."

"Oh?"

"My faith teaches me that nothing happens by chance, that God has a reason for everything. But what possible reason could He have for putting Hawkeye through that? The worst sinner would not deserve that, to say nothing of a man who has devoted his life to caring for others. I can't see what good could possibly come of this."

"A crisis of faith, Father?"

"At least, as close as I've ever been. This whole war is a crisis of faith really. Awful things happen to people who don't deserve them."

"That's war for you."

"How do I reconcile this?" he asked.

It was clearly a rhetorical question, but a possible answer occured to Sidney. "Do you not also believe man is blessed with free will?"

"Well - yes, of course."

"Then isn't it possible that God never intended for this to happen, that the people who hurt him were going against His will?" Sidney wasn't really religious, and he knew little about the intricacies of Father Mulcahy's beliefs, but he wanted to find some other explanation.

It seemed to work, too, judging by the man's expression. "I never thought of it that way."

"That's what I'm here for, Father. An objective opinion."

Someone tapped on the door. "Come in!"

Kellye poked her head in. "Major Friedman, Father, Doctor Pierce wants both of you in Post-op."

**Sorry this took so long but I couldn't find a place to break it. Hopefully the length makes it up.**

**Trying to explain what I was thinking while I was writing this mess would be impossible, so leave specific questions if you have them in reviews and I'll get back to you one-on-one.  
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**This chapter contains references to _Wheelers and Dealers_ and _The Joker is Wild._**

**Please Review.**


	24. Chapter TwentyFour: LongDistance Call

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Twenty-Four: Long-Distance Call  
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"How is he?" Hawkeye asked Potter. Sidney and Father Mulcahy had gone into the office to talk to Jacobson as Potter had stepped out.

"He's pretty upset. Hopefully Sidney and the Padre will be able to help him. Whatever happened between then and now seems to have just made things worse."

"Seems his company chaplain decided to take him on a little guilt trip." Hawkeye's voice took on a bitter edge, but Potter didn't blame him. He just shook his head sadly.

"I'd like to have a talk with that man."

"Get in line." Hawkeye sighed. "It makes me think, you know?"

"About what?"

"How - how even though one of the worst things in the world happened to me, I was lucky at the same time. I was lucky to have someone like Margaret to take care of me who actually believed me, even if I did go to her knowing she would. And to have friends like the rest of you, who went from being angry at me to worried about me in a second and never doubted how bad I was hurting. It could so easily have been different -" his voice caught in his throat.

Potter took him in a gentle embrace. "I don't think there's a chance in hell anyone in this camp would have reacted differently. Sidney did tell me what happened when you first told him, but that seems like it was only a momentary issue, and he still feels bad about it."

"No one in this camp _right now_," Hawkeye pointed out, leaning slightly into the older man's arms. "But I could have ended up with a completely different group in camp. Look, don't take this the wrong way, but when I heard our new CO was a Regular Army man, I was scared to death. I was so sure there would be no room for compassion or leeway or any of the other things that had made us run so well before. Let me tell you, I've never been so glad to be proven wrong."

"I suppose I didn't give the best first impression," Potter admitted, "going through your records and chewing you and Hunnicutt out for notable but not really significant incidents - and poor BJ had only been here a week to boot."

"I'd almost forgotten that part," Hawkeye said softly. "It's just so unlike the you I've come to know - why did you do it?"

"Honestly? Don't _ever_ tell Radar this, but it was something he did."

"What did he do?"

"I asked him to move a file cabinet. He said that Colonel Blake had tried moving it but found it worked better where it was. Instantly I felt like I'd stepped into a shadow that was too big for me. It didn't help that I told Radar 'Blake's gone', and this wave of pain crossed his face. I didn't realize it was grief. No one had told me what had happened. I was told I was replacing Burns, but I wasn't told anything about the man Burns had replaced. So I thought that it was something about Blake's leadership or something, and I wanted to assert my authority and not be always in this shadow, so -"

"I didn't realize how hard it must have been for you," Hawkeye said apologetically.

"Well, it changed when I learned what had actually happened to Henry. It was then that I realized that it wasn't a question of missing his leadership style as much as grieving a dead friend, that I wasn't competing with him for your respect."

"To tell you the truth - there was no competition. We liked Henry, but respect never entered into the equation. The two most military people in this outfit didn't respect him in spite of his rank, and the rest of us - rank couldn't have mattered less. It still couldn't matter less to me. You've seem the way BJ and I act around Generals and Colonels and the like. The rank of an army I can't stand means nothing to me."

"I'll try not to take that remark personally."

"Oh, please do, but take it as a personal compliment." He pulled back from Potter and looked him right in the eyes. "You have, and have had since our first OR session, my utmost respect, and that should mean all the more to you because it isn't something you got from me automatically. You had to earn that respect on a personal level, and you did. God, did you ever. And not just from me, but from BJ and Margaret and Radar and Klinger and Charles; even Frank respected you." Potter gave him a skeptical look. "Don't get me wrong. He didn't _like_ you, but if you'd seen the way he treated Henry - he walked all over him so much Henry practically had bootprints on his uniform." He shook his head sadly. "I suppose we all did, really, because he was such a pushover. The motive may have been different, the end that we used to justify the means, and God knows we _liked_ him more than Frank ever did, but really it was the same. Trapper and I knew we could get away with just about anything so we did just about everything. But you - you were our friend, BJ's and mine, and yet you clearly drew a line and made sure we knew we couldn't get away with crossing it. And whatever fuss I put up about it, the truth is that we - _I_ - respected you for it."

Potter's eyes were moist by the time Hawkeye had finished speaking. He _knew_ how hard the young surgeon's respect was to earn, but he had never realized to what extent he had it. But something else hit him, and he felt his heart breaking as he hoped vividly that it wasn't true. "Hawkeye, that difficult first impression - is that why you didn't come to me when you were first hurt?"

Hawkeye said nothing, but the look on his face, the way he ducked his head, said it all.

Potter sat him down gently before hugging him even harder than before. "I'm sorry, son. I'm so sorry."

"I just didn't know," Hawkeye said softly. "I mean, you seemed like a friend most of the time, but I'd seen you be angry about things before. I didn't have any indication of what you would think or say. The army can be so, well, callous sometimes."

"Don't I know it," Potter said from somewhere above his head, never letting up his grip. Not that Hawkeye really wanted him to.

"I didn't know if you'd listen to me or just act like the local representative of the Army. I know now how you would have reacted, how you _did_ react, but then - I couldn't have borne it if you'd done what I was afraid you would do, what Jacobson's company chaplain did to him. I was hurting so much already -" his voice cracked a little.

Potter began to rub his back. "Easy, son. It's okay. I understand." He regretted not being able to help Hawkeye the first time, but the last thing he wanted was to make him feel bad for being afraid of people's reactions. How horrible must it be to go through something like that and then know you might not be believed? His heart had been breaking for Hawkeye for days, this just added another crack.

"I just didn't _know_," he repeated.

"I had your respect," Potter said softly. "I still have it, and that means a lot to me. But I wish for your sake that I had earned your trust. For your sake, so I could have helped you." He was careful, again, to stress that it was for Hawkeye's sake. He knew about Hawkeye's tendency to suffer extreme guilt himself for his feelings towards others, and he wanted to make it clear that the reason he wished this was so he could have cared for his friend, not because of any sense of personal offense.

"I wish I had too," he said softly. "I told Margaret when it first happened that I wished my dad was here. I still want him." Hawkeye struggled not to let his voice crack, but he knew it had. "But you're the closest thing I've got here, and I didn't let you in."

He pulled Hawkeye tighter, stroking his hair, feeling like a poor substitute. He couldn't imagine how badly the young man wanted his father. He knew how close they were.

An idea occurred to him, something that might help. "Would you like to call him, Hawkeye?"

A spark of hope went through his face, but was quickly replaced with dejection. "I don't know if I could tell him what happened while looking him in the eyes. How could I tell him on the phone?"

"What if I told him for you?" Potter had seen his first reaction to the suggestion. If hearing his father's voice would lift Hawkeye's spirits, ease his pain just a little, he would move heaven and earth to make it happen.

Hawkeye seemed to think this over before nodding. "What time is it?"

"About 1800."

"In Maine?"

"That's - hold on, US Eastern time is thirteen hours behind, so about 0500 this morning."

"If I wake him up, he'll think I've been killed - again - or something. I won't do that to him."

"All right. If I call him in three hours, he'll be awake and you'll hopefully be awake. I'll get someone to cover for you in post-op."

"Thank you, Colonel."

"You don't have to thank me, son. It's the least I can do."

xxxxxxxxx

Kellye shifted a little nervously on her bunk. She had gotten all the nurses' attention, now she had to say her bit. Unfortunately, it wasn't an easy bit to say.

"I, ah," she began, "I was talking to Hawkeye before. In Post-op."

"So now he's Hawkeye again?" Jennings said a little sharply, but Baker hushed her.

"Well, he is, you see - I know why he pushed her."

That got everyone's attention. "Why?" asked more than one voice at once.

"I - I can't tell you. I'm sorry, but I promised. But, uh, I think we need to leave him alone."

"Seriously?" Jennings still looked put out. "You saw the way he snapped at me in OR."

"He didn't snap at you," Baker said softly. "Look, I was there. You told him he'd done a good job, and he responded a little shortly."

"I was trying to compliment him," she responded. "He couldn't accept it with a little more grace?"

"He held a man's heart in his hand," Able pointed out. "Even here at MASH, we don't have to do those kinds of procedures here all _that_ often. It can shake someone up."

"Especially someone like Hawkeye," Kellye added. "No matter how many patients get sent through here, he still sees each and every one as an individual, not some sort of number." She was pleased to see her oldest MASH friends nodding. They had spent the last few days hating Hawkeye, and had apparently forgotten pretty much everything they had known about him previously. "Look, Major Houlihan may seem tough, but when it comes down to it, she would _never _side against one of her nurses unless there was a real reason."

"You're right," Baker added. "We got so caught up in what we saw as an offense against one of our own that we didn't think it through. Hawkeye isn't the type to hit or push a woman unless there was a serious reason, and Major Houlihan would never stand up for him if he did. And Kellye says she knows what happened and that it was justified. Personally, the word of the two of them is enough for me."

"And me," Able put in.

"All right." Anna Peterson wasn't the type to be a last holdout.

Jennings took longer, but finally she too nodded. It was more of a _whatever-you-say _than an _I agree with you_, but as long as she left Hawkeye alone, it was enough for Kellye.

xxxxxxxxx

"Margaret?"

"Hello, Sidney. He's not -"

"I'm not looking for Hawkeye. I'm looking for you."

"Me? Why?"

"You've been involved in this almost from the beginning. Hawkeye came to you, trusted you, leaned on you in a way he didn't with anyone else."

"That's not entirely true."

Sidney raised an eyebrow.

"He trusted BJ. I know he did. He just - well, he did what he does. He decided to protect BJ."

"Uh huh." Sidney didn't doubt that, especially because Hawkeye himself had said as much. But there was something that was just a little out of place. "Do you consider Hawkeye a close friend?"

"Of course!" she seemed offended by the very question.

"And did you consider him one when this first happened?"

"Yes - well, we weren't as close, but I cared about him."

"And did he think the same about you?"

"Yeah, I think so." The aid station, the bug-out, the night he'd spent comforting her in her tent - "Yes, he cared about me."

"And yet, he decided to protect BJ and not you."

"There was nothing to protect me _from_."

Sidney raised an eyebrow. "But there was something to protect BJ from?"

"It's not the same."

"How's that?"

"BJ was - Hawkeye called him innocent, I think, and it fits. You saw how he reacted when he did find out, and it had almost nothing to do with how long it's been."

"And you?"

She sighed. She didn't like talking about it, but Sidney wouldn't be likely to let her off the hook on this one. "It's not easy being a girl on an army base," she said finally.

She saw his face soften with sympathy, but to his credit he asked only, "Hawkeye knew?"

She nodded. "I don't exactly know why I told him, except that for a long time I needed to talk, and - and he was the first person who ever offered to listen."

"That's Hawkeye."

"I think that was the night I realized who he really was. But yes, when he was hurt he came to me because he knew I'd understand and be sympathetic - not that I was," she added bitterly.

"That's not what I get watching you and Hawkeye together. It's not what the Colonel told me either."

"Well - I didn't exactly tell him everything. It's true that I came across Hawkeye crying in the Supply Tent, but - the night before that he tried to come to me, and I was so - so _upset_ that he would wake me up that I didn't even think about it. I yelled at him to leave me alone." Her eyes were brimming with tears. "It was a whole day between that and when I actually found him and took the time to listen. He told me later that he spent the whole day just hiding, trying not to talk to anyone while he was fighting back flashbacks, and that he tried to sleep, woke up screaming, and woke Frank who proceeded to get in his face about it. It scared him half to death in his condition. I doubt it really registered in his mind that it was Frank. It was just a man getting in his face. And the part of him that did know who it was certainly didn't want to let Frank see him cry, so he decided to go shut himself in the supply tent so he could give some expression to his pain without anyone seeing."

"And you?"

"I went in there looking for something I'd forgotten and heard a noise - I thought we had rats in there again," she admitted. "He was sitting on the floor crying. I'd never seen him cry."

"Then what happened?"

"Well, he kind of snapped at me for not letting him in the night before - I had promised he could talk to me. I offered to leave - he started falling all over himself apologizing and he outright begged me to stay. That was when I knew something was wrong. Once I got that far it wasn't hard to get him to talk to me. It was hard for him to get the actual words out, but he looked like he was dying to tell someone."

"This is going to sound like a strange question, but can I ask about the language he used?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well - call me crazy, but it seems to me that Hawkeye has some kind of problem specifically with the word rape. I don't know if I'm the only one who's noticed."

"I think a lot of people have a problem with it. It's a four-letter-word, Sidney. When you think about it it does seem sort of wrong, but it's just the way it is. Nobody wants to use the word, and then the more we watch people dodge it, the more we get the idea there's something wrong with the word itself instead of just the act it describes." She was realizing it even as she said it. "Especially when it comes to men. Hawkeye doesn't have a problem using the word when he's not talking about himself."

"How do you know that?"

She flushed when she realized what she had just blurted out. "Uh, that's not important."

"I think it is."

"Why? How does it relate to any of this?"

"It doesn't. But I have a feeling it's important to _you_, and that makes it important where I'm concerned. I'm responsible for everyone's mental state, not just Hawkeye's. If something happened, Margaret, I want to know about it."

"Well -" she looked down at her folded hands in her lap. "My husband running out on me was just the straw that broke the camel's back on my marriage."

"Oh, Margaret." Some time ago, before this ordeal, he had written about her: _Some people won't accept pain. They just refuse delivery._ He was realizing now that he, for all he was a psychiatrist, had failed to see that inner struggle, the pain she had had no choice but to accept and just pretended she hadn't.

"He drugged me. When I confronted him about it, he insisted it wasn't anything big, just him showing me who was in charge, and anyway I was his wife so how could he rape me? I was still so - so delusional that I believed him. But I mentioned it to Hawkeye. He had a different perspective. He wasn't afraid to use the word he felt best described the situation."

"Have you seen anyone about this, Margaret?"

"About -"

"About what your ex-husband did to you. For that matter, did you ever see anyone about what happened when you were a teenager?"

She shook her head. "Sidney, only four people I have any contact with even know about it. My father, Hawkeye, Colonel Potter, and now you. And I think I told BJ about Donald once. I was sort of drunk." She noted his raised eyebrow. "Okay, I was more than sort of drunk."

"I think if I tried to talk to you at length right now, you'd have something to say about it."

"You're damned right I would."

"Well, I assume you've been listening to the same news reports I have."

"You mean the ones that say peace might be imminent? What about it?"

"Once this is over, you'll likely end up on a fully equipped base. Including, hopefully, a psychiatrist. Have a few sessions. Talk it out. For your own sake."

"I'll take that under advisement. Now can we get back to Hawkeye?"

"Of course. Something you want to let air out?"

"Sidney, you've probably been hearing this all day, but it's different at the same time. I did something - something that upset him badly. The difference is, I _knew_ what had happened. I should have known about it. I blamed Winchester - but I didn't _have_ to go along with it."

"What happened?"

"We got into a prank war. Me against the Swamp duo, with Winchester playing both sides. Well, they did something to me, I don't remember exactly what but I was mad and Winchester pushed me to strike back. So I stole their robes out of the shower and then waited with the other nurses in the Swamp - it was like I _forgot_. How could I _forget_?"

"Did you talk to him about it?"

"He didn't leave me much choice."

_"What the hell are you doing here?" Margaret asked. Walking into her tent to find Hawkeye standing there was the last thing she had expected._

_"We need to talk," he said shortly._

_"Look, if you're angry about this morning, you deserved it for what you pulled on me!"_

_"You think that was some sort of joke? It wasn't exactly funny!"_

_"Well I wasn't exactly laughing at what you pulled last night!"_

_"Do you honestly think that's the same?" he snapped back angrily. "If it had been anyone else, I might have understood - but _you_, Margaret? You? How could you?"_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"Making me walk through the compound naked?"_

_"You've done it before!"_

_"Yes, because I _wanted_ to. There's a difference there! And bringing your nurses in to - to gawk at me! To stare at me naked like I was some kind of object -" His voice cracked sharply. When he spoke again, it wasn't nearly as fierce, a broken near-whisper. "How could you, Margaret?"_

_It hit her suddenly what he was trying to say, and she felt sick when she realized what she had done. "Oh, God. Oh, God. I'm sorry, Hawkeye. I'm so sorry - I wasn't thinking -"_

_"That's obvious."_

_"Come here." She opened her arms. He hesitated only a second before stepping into them. She felt the slight but noticeable shivers in his body. Guilt flowed freely through her. How badly had she hurt him?_

_"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She whispered it over and over again, holding him tight to her. "I just wanted - I only - I don't know if you'll believe me, but I never intended to hurt you. Never. If I'd been using my head, I never would have done it."_

_"I know that," he said softly, relaxing marginally in the comfort of her arms. "It just - for a second, it was like I was back _there_, with other people, strangers, staring at my body. Being laughed at and taunted and -" He broke off abruptly. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."_

_"Please don't be. I deserved to be yelled at. Damn Winchester," she said softly._

_Hawkeye pulled back marginally. "What about Winchester?"_

_"It was his idea for me to steal the robes. He just got me riled up enough that I didn't think it through."_

_"He's been encouraging me and BJ to pull pranks on you too." Hawkeye's voice was soft with realization. "He's pitting us against each other."_

_"What do you say we pull a really good one on him?"_

_"What are you thinking?"_

_"I was hoping you'd have an idea, actually."_

_"Well, no. But I bet between you, me, and BJ we can come up with something."_

_"You want to get him in on it?"_

_"You bet."_

_"How do you plan to do that without telling him what we were discussing?"_

_"BJ is probably already planning revenge. I'll go along with it, and something will happen. We'll fight, then we'll start comparing notes and 'realize' Winchester is behind this whole thing."_

_Her eyes sparkled. "Brilliant." Then she pulled a bottle from under her desk. "Here. A toast to our new alliance."_

_"Shouldn't we do that later?"_

_"We can do it again later." She poured him a glass of what he could tell by the smell was brandy. "Here. Take it as my apology for being such a jerk."_

_He smiled tentatively, taking it from her. "Apology - and alcohol - accepted, Margaret."_

"So he forgave you."

"Of course he did, but that doesn't change what I did. I know BJ and Winchester and the others are probably all going on about what they did to upset him. The difference is, they didn't know. I did, and I did it anyway."

"So for a few minutes, you decided to just treat Hawkeye like the Hawkeye you knew before all this started, instead of like a victim?"

"It sounds completely different when you say it."

"You're behaving just like BJ and Winchester and the others. You're beating yourself up over an offense that the offended has already forgiven."

"Well, when you put it like that -"

"Let it go, Margaret. Let it go."

xxxxxxxxx

"Oh, this better be good." The doctor wondered who was disturbing him at eight o'clock in the morning. One thing was certain - if it wasn't an emergency, that person would be getting an earful.

"Hello."

"_Doctor Pierce?_" An unfamiliar voice, somewhat distorted from static, came through the line.

"May I ask who's calling?"

"_It's Sherman Potter. I think you've met my wife._"

He had, indeed, met Mildred Potter at the reunion a year earlier, but that was beside the point. If Sherman Potter was calling him from Korea - "What is it? Is it Hawkeye?" Near-panic welled up in him. The last time he'd gotten a call from Korea from someone other than his son, it had been to tell him that Hawkeye was MIA. He still shuddered to think how that could have turned out.

"_First things first, Hawkeye is currently sitting in my outer office. There's nothing physically wrong with him._"

"Then what?" He had noted Sherman's choice of words. Nothing _physically_ wrong still left a lot of possible problems.

"_Hawkeye's been through a serious emotional trauma,_" Sherman said bluntly. "_I thought it would do him good to hear your voice._"

Every question in his mind bubbled to the surface at once. "What happened? Is he okay? Why isn't he telling me this himself?"

"_He's not at a point where he's really able to talk about it. I told him I would tell you what happened for him._"

"Well then, for God's sake, _tell me what happened_!"

"_I will. But you might want to sit down._"

That couldn't be good. He settled himself hurriedly in a chair. "Okay, I'm sitting. Now spit it out."

The moment Potter started talking, Daniel wished he hadn't. This was the last thing in the world he'd expected to hear - the last thing he wanted to hear. Potter's gentle explanation of what had happened to his son in Tokyo and then again so recently at the 4077 was tearing his heart to pieces. Tears flowed freely down his face. "Hawkeye - my boy - _Hawkeye_ -" The words flowed from him without any conscious action on his part.

"_He misses you. I know he wishes he could be with you._"

_That makes two of us. _He wanted nothing more than to hold his son, to have Hawkeye in his arms and be able to keep him safe and soothe his pain. Ten thousand miles had never seemed father away.

"_Since that's not possible, I thought it might help him if he could talk to you for awhile._"

"Of course. Put him on." If this little thing would make Hawkeye feel better, he would do it, no questions asked. He couldn't imagine how much pain his son was in. "One more thing. Once we're done," and they both knew he meant _once the army cuts us off,_ "give him a hug for me."

"_You bet I will_."

xxxxxxxxx

"Hawkeye." Potter stuck his head out the office door.

No further words were necessary. Hawkeye jumped up and hurried through the doors, picking up the phone from Potter's desk. "Hello? Dad?"

"I'm here, son."

Daniel's voice was choked, but it was unmistakably his. It struck a chord in Hawkeye, in his still-aching heart. This was the voice of his childhood, the voice that had soothed him when his mother had died and comforted him through many a childhood nightmare. Hard as he tried, he couldn't hold back a flood of tears. He hadn't realized just how badly he needed that voice.

He could hear soft, comforting words through the phone and it just made him cry harder. He wanted to be in his dad's arms, wanted those words whispered directly into his ear instead of on a phone line across multiple continents.

Daniel could hear his son sobbing on the other end of the line, and nothing he said seemed to be making an iota of difference. "I'm sorry - maybe this wasn't a good idea. I can hang up -"

"No!" That one word was sharp even through his tears. "No - don't go. Please don't."

More tears spilled down Daniel's face. Hawkeye sounded like a scared kid. Come to think of it, Daniel suspected he felt much the same way. "I'm not going anywhere, Ben." He didn't use his son's real name very often, but it felt justified now. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't even want to think about it. It just - it's really, really good to hear your voice."

"I love you, Hawkeye." It was the only thing he could say to that. "I love you so much." He hoped it conveyed everything he couldn't put into words.

"I love you too, Dad." Hawkeye still seemed to be crying, and Daniel wasn't sure how much of his message had made it through. "I - I miss you."

Now _that_ the older doctor could read like a book. He gripped the phone tightly as though he could reach through it and take his son in his arms, share the embrace they both craved. "I miss you, son." He'd heard just the day before that it really looked like peace was imminent. He'd already prayed that it would come true, but now he was doubling down. The sooner he could comfort his only child, the better.

"What about you? What's going on up there?"

"Hawk -"

"Please. I want -" he choked off. "I just want to hear your voice. Please, Dad."

Daniel was sure his heart had just shattered inside him. "All right. Whatever you need."

xxxxxxxxx

Hawkeye just sat holding the phone long after the connection had been disconnected, as though his father's voice might somehow come back through the line. He had known he needed to hear his father's voice, but he hadn't realized just how desperate that need was until those first few words had reached his ears. One thing was certain - he wanted to go home even more than he had any time in the past three years.

A gentle hand took the phone from him and put it back on the hook. "You know he can't call back."

"I know," Hawkeye said softly. "I just want him to."

Strong arms wrapped around him and he was pulled into his CO's chest for a long, silent moment.

Potter let up the embrace slightly. "That was from your father," he said softly, before pulling him close again. "And this one's from me."

**There was more I had meant to do with this chapter but I loved that tag-line, and I've left you waiting far too long as it is.**

**This chapter references the episodes _Change of Command, __Dear Sigmund _and _An Eye For a Tooth_. I had actually forgotten about the robe gag in the latter episode when I was writing the earlier chapters, which is why I put the scene here as a flashback.**

**The stuff with Potter in the beginning was kind of speculation. I hope it worked!  
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**Time-frame wise, in case anyone is wondering, this section takes place in mid-June. It's supposed to be after _As Time Goes By_ but it will wrap up prior to the Fourth of July picnic in _Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen_. **

**Please review.**


	25. Chapter TwentyFive: Lean On Me

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Twenty-Five: Lean On Me**_

"That any better?" Potter bit back the _son_ on his lips. That was probably the worst thing to say at that moment.

"A little." His eyes were shut against more tears. "God, I didn't even realize how much I miss him. I really, _really_ want to go home."

"I know." He wished there was something he could do. He'd already looked up the criteria for a hardship discharge, but it looked like it had to be someone at home needing the person being discharged before they could go. Not the person being discharged needing someone at home. He felt truly terrible for Hawkeye. If it were up to him, the young surgeon would have been on the plane for home yesterday.

"I'd better get back to post-op."

"You sure? The nurses can handle it."

"I want to look in on Jacobson." He had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on the young corporal. The poor man had been in tears after his conversation with Father Mulcahy. He had assured Hawkeye that they were tears of relief, after hearing all his company chaplain had said to him firmly refuted by another man of the cloth, and Hawkeye believed him, but he still wanted to check on him. He stood and took a step and suddenly felt the floor start spinning and the world went black.

Potter was out of his chair the moment he saw Hawkeye crumple to the floor. He knelt over the young surgeon, checking him over. Hawkeye's eyes fluttered open. "What happened?"

"You had an impromptu meeting with the floor."

Hawkeye tried to sit up, but it just made his head swim so he slumped back, which worried Potter further. "Other than - the obvious, have you been feeling off at all?"

"I - I don't think so, but I'm not sure I'd have noticed if I was."

Potter put a hand behind Hawkeye's back to help him sit up and it hit him what was going on as soon as he realized how easily he could feel bones through skin. "Hawkeye, have you been eating? At all?"

"I had some cookies earlier in the Swamp." It was true. He just didn't mention that it had been the first thing he'd eaten in a week.

But Potter was smarter than that. "Uh huh. And before that?"

Silence spoke volumes.

The colonel helped him into a chair and stood next to him. "I know you haven稚 been feeling well, and I know this past week's been hard on you. But you can't deny your body what it needs. You must be starving. I know the mess tent's not exactly gourmet fare, but -"

"No need!" A long-nosed Lebanese sergeant came barging through the door. "Rosie's Bar to the rescue."

"What?" Potter and Hawkeye both turned to face him.

He grinned. "Rosie's had a soup that actually looked and smelled really good. It's got to be better than the mess tent, anyway. Comes with dumplings, too."

"But how did you get it so _fast_?" Potter asked.

"Actually," he admitted, still smiling, "I didn't. Captain Hunnicutt mentioned earlier that you seemed hungry and he thought it might be better if we found you something other than the mess tent. Asked if I had any food from home. I didn't, but I smelled this when I was across the road, so -" He placed it on the table. "I just happened to come in in time to hear the end of that conversation. Swiped you a spoon too."

It certainly smelled better than anything that the mess tent served. Hawkeye took the proffered spoon and tentatively sampled the soup. Instantly his eyes went wide. The liquid felt wonderful in a stomach that had been empty too much in recent days. He gulped it all down and made equally short work of the dumplings. He felt some of the tiredness he had been putting down to his emotional trauma evaporate, and realized just how much of a toll starving himself had taken on his body.

"All right, _now_ I'll get back to post-op."

Potter opened his mouth to object, then closed it when he remembered about Jacobson. "All right, but only a visit. Then I want you to rest."

"Yes, Dad." There was a bit of pain behind that, as it spoke clearly of his longing, but it was also tinged with Hawkeye's typical humor, something they'd all heard too little of in recent days.

xxxxxxxxx

"How you doing?" Hawkeye sat on the empty cot next to the young man whose pain he knew so well.

"I'm okay."

"Really."

"Well - maybe not completely okay, but best I've felt in a month. That's something, right?"

"You bet it is." Hawkeye's smile was small and weak, but it was genuine, one of very few he'd managed in days.

"So what happens now?"

"I know you told me you wanted to talk to your Lieutenant when this first happened." He took Jacobson's good hand in his. "You still want to?"

"I'd like to, yeah," he admitted. "I'd like to have someone I can talk to if it gets really bad, once I go back to my unit."

"If he comes here, I'll arrange for you to be able to talk in private. Otherwise you'll probably have to figure out a way to do it yourself. What about the rest of the unit?"

He looked away.

"What?" Hawkeye said gently.

"Well, it's just - promise you won't say anything?"

"Of course."

"I told you about my chaplain and how he reacted, but I guess I didn't tell you the whole story." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Well, not this past leave, but the one before, I was with some buddies and we were drinking, and we were talking about girls, and I - I hinted at something that had happened, something else."

Hawkeye was thoroughly confused by this point. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I have gone out with girls, even, you know, taken a few to bed. But, I've, uh -" He looked around nervously. "You _promise_ this is confidential?" he asked again.

"Promise." The confusion was gone. He was pretty sure he knew what was coming. "You've also gone out with some people who weren't girls, right?"

"How -"

"You're not the first person with your, ah, set of concerns that's come through here before. So you told your buddies."

"Well, not really. Fortunately, I wasn't _that_ drunk. But I said more than I should have, and they made some assumptions. They weren't serious enough to stick, so it's kind of been dropped, but not before the whole unit heard about it, including the chaplain. If too many people hear about this, they could get the wrong idea." Wide eyes met Hawkeye's. "I'm afraid of what would happen then. When I went to talk to the chaplain, I thought maybe, just _maybe_ he wouldn't see the connection I was already seeing. But when the person who's supposed to be the most compassionate falls back on rumors -"

"Forget supposed to. It sounds like you actually trust your Lieutenant, on a personal level."

"I do."

"Then that's where you need to start. Not with someone some structure tells you you should trust, but with someone _you_ know deep down inside that you can trust." He gave the young man a gentle pat on the uninjured shoulder. "I'll come by and check up on you later."

xxxxxxxxx

"Hawk -" BJ cut himself off before he could ask if his friend was okay. Unfortunately, that left the name hanging in the air with nothing following it, as he couldn't come up with anything more appropriate to say.

But Hawkeye understood. "I'm all right." Then, as BJ fixed him with the same look he'd used a mere fifteen minutes earlier on Jacobson, he relented. "Fine, not quite. But I see the day where I could be."

"You look like you've been crying."

"Potter put through a call to my dad. And it was nice, you know, I really needed to hear his voice even more than I thought I did. But I miss him so much."

BJ had crossed the small tent in a few strides and took Hawkeye in a soothing hug. "I know you do, Hawk."

"I want to go home," he whispered. "God, I want to go home."

"I know you do," he repeated. "I know." He ran his hands up and down Hawkeye's back, trying to comfort him. He wished desperately that there was a way they could send Hawkeye home, but he knew Potter would already have explored that option and done anything that could be done.

"Did Klinger find you?" he asked finally. "I know he had some soup he wanted to hand over."

"Yeah, he found me."

"Good. You need to be eating." He winced. "I'm sorry. I probably sound like I'm talking to a five-year-old."

"Yes, you do." Hawkeye surprised both BJ and himself with the blunt, but very characteristic, remark. "But I really don't mind," he added seriously.

"Really?"

"It kinda feels good," he admitted. "This is gonna sound silly, but right now I feel almost like a little kid. I _want_ someone to take care of me. Those first couple days last time, before I told Margaret, I felt so - so alone, and so afraid. The moment she hugged me for the first time, it was - I felt _safe_. I don't think you can understand, and I hope you never do, but I didn't feel safe anywhere, even in my own bed, even after I'd locked everything there was to lock on that hotel door. But when she put her arms around me, I did feel safe. I felt like I couldn't be hurt as long as she was touching me."

"That's not the only time, is it?" BJ asked gently.

"What?"

"Margaret was asleep when _she_ hurt you in here. She was asleep until the commotion woke her. And when I hugged you in the Colonel's office, you hung onto me like your life depended on it." He ran his fingers through Hawkeye's hair. "You were scared to death, weren't you? For those hours in between?"

Hawkeye nodded slowly against his friend's shoulder. "But when you guys take care of me, even if you do fuss a lot, it makes me feel safer, reminds me that I'm not alone." He shook his head. "Privacy is at a premium here, and I can still feel completely alone. Isn't that strange?"

"You're not alone." BJ hugged him even more tightly. "I'm here, Hawk. I'm here."

"I know." And he did.

It was, Hawkeye thought, to Charles' credit that he had allowed this scene to take place just feet from him and said nothing. But now the cot creaked as he sat up slowly. Hawkeye wasn't sure if he expected Charles to speak or not, but he certainly wasn't expecting him to do what he did - though in hindsight, perhaps he should have. He placed a record on the phonograph and turned it on. As he did, his eyes met Hawkeye's and a moment of understanding passed between them.

"Charles, would you kindly -" BJ began.

"No," Hawkeye interrupted his best friend. "Leave it."

BJ didn't stop holding his bunkmate, but he did spare a moment to look at him like he'd grown another head.

"I'm not alone," he said softly.

And then BJ understood. Closing his eyes in sympathetic pain, he pulled his friend tighter still. "No, Hawk. You're not alone."

xxxxxxxxx

"Morning, Jacobson."

"Hey, Doc, could you do me a favor?"

"Sure, what?"

"Well, it's just - I feel like we're more than doctor and patient, like we're friends."

"We are," Hawkeye assured him. He remembered, vividly, everything he'd told BJ the night before about how much he needed his friends.

"Well - usually my friends call me Tom."

Hawkeye smiled. "On one condition."

"What's that?"

"My friends call me Hawkeye."

Eyebrows met hairline. "Who came up with that one?"

"My dad. Named me after his favorite book." He noticed Tom was still playing with his breakfast. "Something wrong with the food - wait, don't answer that." He got a very small smile out of the Corporal. "What's up?"

"I'm not hungry. And it's not the food either. I just feel sick every time I think about - you know."

"Yes, I know. But you need to eat."

"Was it that easy for you?" he asked sharply.

"No," he admitted, "but it helped that I had friends that insisted on taking care of me even when I didn't want to take care of myself. Come on, at least try."

He looked distinctly sick as he forced down the first few bites, but Hawkeye could tell he was really trying. "Where you from, Tom?"

"Wisconsin. Madison area - you know it?"

"Not offhand."

"They built the city around the school," he said with a small grin. "ROTC training grounds not too far away - I grew up on . I used to watch them and be glad I wasn't going where they were going, which at the time would have been Germany. Of course that was before I knew about the draft," he added wryly.

"What's it like there?" Hawkeye was listening. He was also noticing that as he spoke, the young man was continuing to eat without really being aware of it.

"It's beautiful. There are two lakes, and the downtown area is kind of in between them. There's this one hill, on the university campus. It's a pain to climb up, but when you stand on top of it you can see for miles." His eyes were almost closed as he lost himself in the memory. "At night, you could climb up, and you don't see the people or the details, just the buildings and the lights. From the top of the hill, you're looking right at the state capitol, and it's this beautiful huge white building in the middle of all these smaller ones. It's like something out of a painting, and it's never quite the same way twice."

"It sounds beautiful," Hawkeye said sincerely.

"It is." By now, the tray was clean, and he looked down at it with a sort of amazement. "When did that happen?"

"You got so busy talking you weren't paying attention to your food. You were just eating it. You _were_ hungry, you just didn't want to eat."

"Good observation."

Hawkeye turned towards the source of the new voice. "Sidney!"

"Just checking up on some patients. Hawkeye, when you're finished here can we talk outside?"

"Of course."

"Jacobson, I'd like to see you later if you have a chance."

"Not like I'm going anywhere."

"Tom." Hawkeye laid his hand on the young man's shoulder, dropping his voice. "About what you told me yesterday -"

"What about it?" he asked resignedly.

"I just wanted to check - you're not blaming yourself because of that, are you?" He hadn't caught it at the time, but there had been an odd look in Tom's eyes when he had mentioned the connection.

He looked away. "Maybe just a little."

"Why?"

"Well, I've done stuff with guys before. You know -" Hawkeye nodded, and he went on. "I mean, the basic - acts - weren't that different -"

"Stop," Hawkeye said softly. "Listen, I don't know what happened to you, but I know that that woman got - involved with me." He hated talking about it, but he had to. He had to make this point. "And believe me, anyone in this camp knows I'm no novice when it comes to women." That got a tentative smile. "To some outsider, or in clinical terms, it might be the same, but I know it's not. And so do you."

"Yeah." He nodded. "I guess I never thought of it that way."

"Listen. No matter how many times you did it willingly, that doesn't change the fact that in this circumstance you were forced, that it was against your will." He tightened his hand on Tom's shoulder, remembering the words that had sounded so wonderful when Potter and Margaret had said them to him. "It wasn't your fault, Tom."

xxxxxxxxx

"Sidney, what's up?"

"I'm afraid my superiors are getting impatient. They want me back in Tokyo as soon as I can be there. I know this isn't what either of us wanted -"

"No, that's fine. Go ahead."

Sidney wasn't about to let his friend off the hook that easily. "No, Hawkeye. It's not fine, and we both know it. I'm really sorry.

"You said you'd be here as long as I needed you."

"I know. Listen, Hawkeye. You know I wouldn't be leaving if I had a choice."

"I know, I just -" he thought of the conversation he'd had with BJ the night before. "I feel sort of alone, even with everyone here. The only person who really understands is Margaret - and you didn't hear that," he added as he realized what he'd said.

"As it happens, I heard exactly what I didn't just hear from her yesterday. I was curious about why you chose to confide in her."

"Uh huh." He filed that away for later reference. "But even if you don't understand on a personal level, you at least have some professional level of understanding. No one else here does. I mean, they've been wonderful, I don't know what I'd have done without them, but they don't know what I'm going through. I may seem better, I may _be_ better, but I'm not okay." He sighed. "I _was_ okay. It took time, but I finally managed to move on, to have whole days go by where I didn't think about what happened in Tokyo. And now it's like I'm back at square one, not only with what happened _here_ but with the first incident too. All the flashbacks and such that I _had_ been past are coming back."

"Of course they are." He laid a comforting hand on Hawkeye's arm. "It's always been in the back of your mind. It was a life-altering experience. With time and effort you'd gotten those memories filed away in a place where they didn't hurt so much, where every little thing didn't trigger them. But _she_ wasn't just some little thing with a faint connection, like being shouted at by a weasel-like major." Hawkeye didn't even bother to ask how Sidney knew about that. "She was involved in the entire incident. She _caused_ it. So when you were forced to confront her again, everything you'd buried was unearthed again, yanked to the surface. And then on top of it, she gave you another nightmare, another memory to haunt you." He tightened his grip on his friend's arm. "You got there once. You'll get there again."

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

xxxxxxxxx

"Come in, Hawkeye."

He did, an eyebrow raised. "How did you know it was me?"

"You have a unique knock." Margaret sat up to make room for him to sit next to her. "What's bothering you?"

"Margaret - can I confide in you?"

"Do you have to ask?"

"I mean seriously. Can I tell you _anything_ and be sure it won't leave this tent?"

"Hawkeye, what's going on?"

"I need your word, Margaret."

"Okay." She took his hand and faced him. "I swear that whatever you tell me, it won't go any farther than if you told Father Mulcahy."

"All right. Well, you know about the Jacobson case?"

"Of course." It had been Hawkeye's idea, with Tom's permission, to let Margaret in on the situation so he would have a nurse who could be sympathetic to his needs.

"Well, it looks like he and I have even more in common than I thought. We've both been blaming ourselves."

"Poor kid," she said sympathetically. "What's wrong with him?"

"This is where we get into the 'don't tell anyone' part." He proceeded to relate what Tom had told him just a few hours earlier, watching her carefully to gauge her reaction.

"That's all?" she said finally. "That's what you made that big deal about?"

"Margaret, if you'll remember the last time something like this came up -"

"What?" She frowned, trying to place the reference. "Oh, you mean that thing that happened two years ago? That private you blackmailed Frank out of reporting?"

"Yeah, that."

"Frank was the gung-ho one, I was just going along with it. I mean, I was a little more of a stickler for the rules in those days, so my opinion might have been different, but Frank got me whipped up into a fever about it. He had some sort of personal issue in _that_ area that he never really explained. I went along with a lot of things in those days because of Frank," she admitted ruefully, "and that was one of them. I know what the army says, but honestly I ask what the point is. It's not like they're hurting anyone."

"You've changed a lot." He smiled at her.

"Thank God for that. But if you were worried about my reaction, why tell me at all?"

"That was just a preface."

"Then by all means, go on."

"Well, the private we were just discussing wasn't my first experience with a guy who, you know, preferred his own kind One of my best friends from childhood was that way." Hawkeye bit his lip. "His name was Tom too."

"What happened?"

"Remember Walter Peterson?"

She was taken aback at the apparent non-sequitur but answered anyway. "How could I forget? The only time you ever actually followed Army rules - after, I gauged from his expression, promising to keep it a secret."

"The reason I turned in Walter Peterson was because of Tommy Gillis. You may remember him - he caused a bit of a stir in post-op by kissing first me, then Henry right on the mouth."

"I do remember that," she laughed. "Though it seems like odd behavior for someone, you know, like him. Someone with something to hide."

"It does, doesn't it? But that was his way. I guess he figured that everyone would think that - that no one with anything to hide would behave that way." Hawkeye swallowed. "He died on the table in OR. That shocked me into action. I couldn't let that fifteen-year-old kid go off and get himself killed in pursuit of some idea of glory."

She slipped her arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Hawkeye. That must have really hurt."

"You guys all wondered why it was so hard for me to operate on Radar. The whole time he was lying on my table, the only thing I could picture was Tommy Gillis, how he died on that table and I was helpless to save him. He trusted me to save him, and I let him die."

She remembered barging into his tent to yell at him about Radar. She hadn't had a clue what was going on in his head. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"He thought about telling them, you know."

"Telling who?"

"The draft board. He went back and forth on it for ages. On one hand, he had a foolproof way out of the Army. But he knew that that would go on his permanent record. Even his parents didn't know. I was the only person he ever told, except for the guys he went out with." He swallowed. "That's what made me think of it. The look in Tom Jacobson's eyes when he told me - he looked just like Tommy did that day he told me." He remembered it as clearly as if it happened yesterday. Tommy begging to talk to him alone, Tommy asking him to promise he wouldn't tell, Tommy with tears in his eyes, confessing that he was different, that he was attracted to men, looking at Hawkeye as though he expected his friend to hit him, and the gratified surprise in his face when Hawkeye had hugged him instead, whispering that it changed nothing. The reason why Frank's reaction to George Weston had been so infuriating to him.

"You still miss him, don't you?"

"All the time." He leaned into the arm Margaret offered him. "I had a lot of friends, but Tommy was the closest by far, the only one who begins to compare with the kind of friendship I have with BJ, or with Trapper or Henry or Mulcahy or Klinger or Radar or Potter or even Charles." He rested his head on her shoulder. "Or you."

She rubbed his back gently, touched beyond words at the sentiment.

"Remember when I was having those nightmares about my friends dying and I called them to check on them?"

"From what I remember, they were real jerks about it."

"Exactly. That's how they always were. We were close, but there was a sort of crassness about our friendship. They weren't necessarily the kind of guys I could count on in a pinch. Tommy was. If he had been alive, and he'd been the subject of one of those nightmares, I can pretty much guarantee he would have listened and reassured me that he was okay instead of blowing me off. He was the one who was really there for me when my mom died, and like I said I was the one who was there for him when he was dealing with everything he had just realized about himself." Hawkeye shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I just can't get him out of my mind."

"That's okay. I do have one question though."

"Yeah?"

"Why me? If you were afraid of my reaction, why not just tell BJ instead?"

"You're the only person who's been here anywhere near as long as I have," he said simply, as though that explained everything. To her, it did. "Margaret, I - that is, do you mind if I -"

"Of course you can stay with me tonight." She gently helped him out of his fatigues and laid him down. She slid off her own dressing gown and laid down next to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I never had much in the way of friends," she said softly. "Especially not as a kid. We moved so much. Every time I started to make friends I had to leave them. Eventually, I just stopped trying."

"That's sad," he said softly.

"I did have a best friend once, though," she continued. "Her name was Elaine Marquette. She was my head nurse at my longest stateside post, the one I had before I decided to come out here. I was a newly-promoted, newly-transferred First Lieutenant when I met Elaine." She smiled a little. "I wasn't particularly good at connecting with other nurses in those days either. Despite what I'm sure my entire staff thinks, that has very little to do with my being a major and a lot more to do with me being me. Something like the third day I was there, Elaine came up to me and told me that I had real potential, and warning me that she intended to be extra-tough on me because of all the nurses, I was the one she thought was most likely to be a head nurse myself one day."

"She was right."

Margaret smiled even wider at this. "Anyway, we got to be very close. True to her word, she was hard on me during the workday, but when we were off-duty we were inseparable. She was, I'll admit, somewhat critical of me, but it was only because she wanted me to be better. She didn't like me sleeping around, said it wasn't the actual act she minded but the fact that I clearly didn't respect myself and that I was letting them use me. She said I didn't need to validate myself that way and that I should respect me enough to find a man who respected me." She sighed. "I thought I had. Three separate times, as a matter of fact."

"Frank, Donald, and Scully," he said knowingly. "They were the only ones that factored into your, ah, calculations."

"And they each have a special place in my heart." She seemed to consider this. "Well, Frank and Scully, anyway."

Hawkeye tightened his arms around her. He knew well how badly Donald had hurt her.

"Frank was a liar and a weasel, but he gave me something special. When I got to Korea, I thought sex was something a woman did to please a man. I didn't realize she was supposed to get something out of it. The first time we slept together was the first time I ever got any pleasure out of sex - it was so amazing I almost cried. Frank was the only man who ever did that for me, before or since, with one exception."

Hawkeye knew what she meant, but he was surprised that she mentioned it so openly. Her usual position was that that night in the abandoned hut was to be treated as though it had never happened.

"And what we had, Frank and I - it was a _relationship_. He bought me gifts, he wanted to spend time with me that didn't just involve being in bed together. I hadn't had that since I was a teenager. Before I got fed up with him, I really did feel something.

"Donald was more of a fond wish. He proposed to me, so I thought he really wanted me, all of me. He wanted to make a commitment to me, to make our relationship permanent. I didn't even know him, just the idea of him. Once I got to know him, I didn't like what I saw." She leaned into Hawkeye. She hadn't told him everything that had happened with her now ex-husband, but she certainly wouldn't now. He was in enough pain, she wasn't going to make him deal with hers. "He was more like all those men I dated before Frank - interested only in what I could give him.

"Scully - Scully is the one I regret least and regret most at the same time. On the one hand, he never hurt me, not really. We were just too different. I think he could make some woman very happy someday, and I sincerely hope he finds her. On the other hand, I think if we hadn't rushed things, we could have been good friends, and I regret messing that up." Her fingers absently ran through Hawkeye's hair. Once, she might have considered attaching herself to him, but she wasn't ready to risk losing her best friend for a relationship. "I'm sorry. I'm way off the subject."

"Don't worry about it." His voice was thick with the hint of sleep. "I like it when you talk to me. I like when you open up to me. It's what friends do for each other."

"Thank you."

"So what ever happened to your friend Elaine?"

"As far as I know, she's still at the hospital where we both worked. She got me promoted to Captain in my third year there and then a year and a half later I was offered the head nurse position here, plus another promotion. She told me to take it, that opportunities like this didn't come around every day. And I'm glad she did. I've come a long way since then, and not just professionally. If I hadn't gotten to know Potter and BJ and especially you, I'd still be that woman I was when you first met me, the woman who was anyone's for the asking. You've done so much for me, Hawkeye." She frowned when he didn't respond. "Hawkeye?"

She felt his back under her hand, rising and falling evenly, and realized why he didn't answer. She stroked his hair gently and placed a featherlight kiss on his head.

"Sleep well, Hawkeye."

**I know this chapter is really random, but writing out the ideas buzzing around in my head helps get rid of writer's block (which is why this chapter took so long) so hopefully you don't mind too much. The next chapter will wrap up the Jacobson storyline and then we'll finally get into the actual trial.**

**This chapter contains references to the episodes _George, Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, Fallen Idol, _and _Hawk's_ _Nightmare_. My interpretation of Tommy Gillis and his friendship with Hawkeye, as compared to his other friends and on his own, was entirely conjecture and my own angle, so hopefully it worked for you.**

**Margaret not telling Hawkeye everything about Donald will probably pop up in the far future - I intentionally left that open-ended because I'm not sure where I want to go with it.**

**The description of Madison (formerly home to a large ROTC training ground) is based on personal experience.**

**Please review.**


	26. Chapter TwentySix: One More Ally

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Twenty-Six: One More Ally**_

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. That was his first thought when he woke. He had been listening to Margaret talk about her mentor, and at some point had lost the battle to keep his eyes open.

His head was against her chest and shoulder, his arm around her waist. He was lying partly on top of her, using her as a pillow. Her arms were tight around him, keeping him safe against her. He realized he had slept the whole night without a single nightmare. The thought nearly made him weep with relief. Sidney was right. He was getting better.

Margaret was asleep as well, lying on her back, white-blond hair strewn over the pillow. Her chin was against the top of his head as she held him close even in sleep. For a fleeting moment, he wished they weren't so different - but then, if she wasn't exactly the way she was, she wouldn't be the Margaret he knew, the one he'd begun to develop feelings for over a year ago. It could never be more than a dream, but sometimes he wished -

"Good morning."

Probably just as well she'd stopped his train of thought right then. "Morning. Sorry I fell asleep on you - literally and figuratively," he added with a smile. He was managing more and more of those every day.

"It's okay. I've told you before I don't mind. You make a good teddy bear."

That got another smile out of him. "Still, you were talking."

"Really, it's okay. I know you were listening until you fell asleep. You didn't miss that much, and you were exhausted." She wondered if he'd heard the last bit she'd said, but she'd wait for him to bring it up.

"I did it," he whispered. "I slept without nightmares."

She kissed his forehead. "I knew you'd get there."

"You helped." He returned her kiss with one on her cheek.

"Major!" The door banged open, interrupting their conversation. "Have you seen - oh, I, uh -"

"For God's sake, Klinger." She sat up a little, trying not to dump Hawkeye on the floor as she did. "What do you need?"

"I wanted to ask if you knew where Captain Pierce was. I see I have an answer."

Hawkeye sat up now too. "What is it, Klinger?"

"There's a patient in post-op asking for you."

Hawkeye frowned. There was no reason for a patient to specifically ask for him over another doctor unless - "Jacobson?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Damn it!" Despite the emotional rollercoaster he'd been riding the last few days, Jacobson had never once sent someone to fetch Hawkeye. If he was now, that probably meant it was serious. He hurriedly grabbed his pants and yanked them on, followed by his boots, leaving his over-shirt lying in a heap on the floor as he rushed out.

"Klinger." Margaret hesitated, torn between giving him an order and appealing to his sense of decency. "Look, please don't mention this to anyone."

Klinger raised an eyebrow.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Corporal," she snapped. "It has nothing to do with what you're thinking," she continued in a softer voice. "He stays in here to get comfort after everything that happened. I don't want him being asked awkward questions."

All joking faded instantly from Klinger's face. "I promise. Not a word."

xxxxxxxxx

"Hey. What's up?"

"I didn't wake you, did I?" Tom asked worriedly.

"No, I was awake. What do you need?"

He chewed his lower lip. "Just got word. My Lieutenant's coming later today, to visit those of us who got hurt. If I can't get up the courage to tell him now, I don't think I ever will."

Hawkeye took Tom's hand gently. "You want me to be there?"

He shook his head. "I need this to be just between me and him. But I need a place where we can talk, a place where -"

"You can cry?" Hawkeye supplied when he faltered.

"Exactly."

"No problem, I'll arrange it. If there's any problems, have someone come get me."

"Thanks, Doc."

xxxxxxxxx

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," Winchester stood to intercept an unfamiliar man looking rather worn-down who had just walked into the mess tent, "but who are you, and what are you doing here?"

"Lieutenant Duncan, sir." The man looked to be in his late thirties. "I'm looking for Captain Pierce."

"I'm Pierce, what's the matter?"

"I'd like to speak with you about the treatment one of my men has been receiving." His voice was sharp. "Corporal Jacobson."

Hawkeye winced. Tom had been so sure that this man would listen to him, but he sounded upset and angry, and that didn't bode well. If that was the case, Hawkeye would have to have a few words with him.

"Sure. Shall we step outside?" He saw Winchester looking faintly worried, but the Major didn't know what Hawkeye did. To him, Jacobson was just a patient that had been difficult. To Hawkeye, he was someone who needed an advocate, and he knew that was to be him.

"Somewhere we won't be overheard would be preferable," Duncan said as they exited the tent.

"All right, the supply room." He led the man in and pulled the door closed. "Now, what about Jacobson?"

"We spoke earlier. It appears the Corporal's been keeping some pretty significant secrets from me."

"Yeah, so?"

"He told me you were the one who encouraged him to tell me. I want to thank you." He gave a soft sigh. "I'm just sorry he needed the outside push. Poor kid was hurting and felt like he couldn't tell - well, I'm having words with our company chaplain the second I get back to my outfit, you can count on that!"

Hawkeye realized then that the feelings he had been reading from the other man were actually on Tom's behalf, not towards him. He relaxed significantly. "I'm glad you took him seriously."

"He was almost in tears the second he started talking. Any idiot would have known something serious had happened - well, apparently not _any_ idiot," he added venomously. "He needs help, not personal attacks."

"I agree completely. How is he?"

"He looked pretty tired when it was over, so probably sleeping. When does he get back to the outfit?"

"We'll be shipping him to the 121st tomorrow, from there it's in their hands." Hawkeye shook his head. "I wish I could send him home."

"Me too, Doctor. But I'll take care of him the best I can."

"I'm sure you will, Lieutenant." He reached out a hand, which Duncan grasped firmly. When they spoke again, it was to say the same thing.

"Thank you."

xxxxxxxxx

"So, I hear things went pretty well yesterday."

Tom nodded. "Now I wish I'd told him right off the bat. Maybe this last month would have been easier."

"Hey, don't be too hard on yourself. I didn't tell Potter right away either."

"It seems so silly looking back on it."

"I know, but it isn't silly to be scared of a negative reaction."

"I feel a little better," he said softly. "Odd, isn't it? Nothing's _changed_, but -"

"You have another person in your camp. That's no small deal, Tom."

"He didn't even say anything when I started crying. Just patted me on the back and let me cry, and then told me he'd back me all the way on getting justice. He wouldn't let me apologize for any of it, for crying or keeping secrets or whatever."

"Good." Hawkeye rubbed Tom's uninjured shoulder. "That's what you need right now. Unconditional support."

"I have you to thank for this." Tom met Hawkeye's eyes. "You pushed me to talk, and listened when I did. You hooked me up with people who made me stop feeling so awful about myself. I owe you a lot."

Hawkeye took his hand. "Someday, when you meet someone who's in need of a shoulder to lean on, pay it forward."

**Very short, I know, but I wanted to get a wrap on this bit so I can get to the trial. I should warn you I have trouble with courtroom scenes, so this could take awhile.**

**Please review.**


	27. Chapter TwentySeven: Confronting Her

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Confronting Her  
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"All right. One more thing."

Hawkeye looked around the room, but it was clear to him that no one had any more clue than he did, which was unusual. Usually when something came up at a senior staff meeting, at least one person besides Potter had an idea what it would be.

"Pierce, this is mostly for you."

"What have I done this time?" he joked.

Potter didn't laugh or even smile. "I've just gotten word. Lieutenant Monroe's trial will be held in Seoul one week from yesterday." He saw Hawkeye's face pale and couldn't help feeling bad. It seemed like he'd finally stopped constantly thinking about it, and now he had to go bring it up again. "You've been called in, of course, and with your permission the JAG wants Margaret to testify as well as to the extent of your injuries from what happened."

Hawkeye wasn't the only one who had reacted to the news. Looking up, Potter realized the entire senior staff had closed ranks, as it were, around Hawkeye, with BJ gently rubbing his shoulder and Margaret holding his hand. Mulcahy and Charles stood on either side of the trio as if to protect their friend from further harm. It still touched him how much the core of his unit, even Charles, who had always kept his distance, had come together behind Hawkeye in his time of need.

"Yeah," he said softly, leaning his head into BJ's arm. "Okay. Margaret can testify."

"I had a feeling you'd say that. I've planned for the two of you to stay in Seoul until you are called for convenience's sake, as well as the night after your testimonies, in case it gets late." _Or in case you need to recover._ "I'll let you know as soon as I get the exact date."

xxxxxxxxx

"Pierce, it looks fine. Stop fidgeting."

Hawkeye sent a glare towards his Bostonian tent-mate. "It itches." He continued fussing with his tie.

"Hawk, you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

Hawkeye turned from Charles to BJ. "Yeah, I'm sure. If wounded come in they'll need every hand they can get here, and they'll already be short two. I'll be fine. Margaret will be there to keep an eye on me."

He stepped over and hugged his friend. "Take care of yourself." He patted Hawkeye's back. "I'll be waiting here if you need me when this is over."

"Thanks, Beej."

"Drink before you go?"

"Why not?"

"Here."

A bottle landed in Hawkeye's lap. He glanced from the bottle to Charles, who had just dropped it into his lap. "This is twelve-year-old scotch!"

"Your powers of observation are astounding." Then his face softened a little. "I have no illusions that this is going to be easy for you. I thought you could use a proper drink." His eyes locked on Hawkeye's. "Consider it recompense for my lack of compassion at a time when I should have provided it."

"All right, but only if you have a drink with me. Beej?"

"You bet." He held out three glasses, which Hawkeye filled.

Charles raised his glass in a toast. "Good luck," he said simply.

"I'll drink to that," Hawkeye replied before doing just that. He started to hand the bottle back to Charles, but the other surgeon pushed it back into his hands.

"I have a feeling you'll want this when the trial's over. Share it with Margaret. If there's anything left when you get back, we'll discuss it then." Then he reached over and adjusted Hawkeye's best "going to court-martial clothes", as he called them. "There. It looks fine. Leave it."

xxxxxxxxx

It was like a statue convention. That was Hawkeye's first thought. Not one of the assembled witnesses was speaking. They all seemed to be avoiding eye contact.

The door shut with a gentle tap, and they all glanced in his direction. Then one man stood and limped in his direction. "Hawkeye!"

"Hey, Tom."

The next thing he knew, he was caught in an embrace. The hug was slightly lopsided, the left arm tighter than the right, but it was a two-armed hug nonetheless.

"I see you're getting better."

"Thanks to you guys. The doctor said I'll have no permanent damage because of the excellent care I recieved just after I was wounded. Unfortunately, that does mean I have to go back to the line." He grimaced. "But at least when I do go home I'll be good as new, God willing."

"Tom, you remember Margaret Houlihan?"

"Of course." He stepped back from Hawkeye to nod at her. "Major, it's good to see you again."

"Same to you." She looked ready to say more, but another man walked through the door and she fell silent. He was carrying a briefcase, and she was pretty sure he was the prosecutor.

"All right, all of you. The trial will begin tomorrow. Witnesses will be called in the following order. Private Brian Morrison, First Lieutenant John Hayes, Corporal Thomas Jacobson, Sargeant Kevin Peters, PFC Aaron Weizmann, Captain Mark Tyree to corroborate for Weizmann and Peters, Captain Benjamin Pierce, and Major Margaret Houlihan to corroborate Captain Pierce. Any questions?"

No one said anything.

"Okay. Now I'll be asking all of you similar questions, with some small variations depending on the individual reports you've submitted. Please be sure to answer all questions as completely and truthfully as possible, or the defense may try to find places to twist. When the defense questions you, just answer the questions truthfully. You all know exactly what happened to you, or in the case of Captain Tyree and Major Houlihan, you know what you saw. Try not to get agitated or upset - they _want _you to be upset so they can exploit that. Any questions?"

Margaret raised her hand and the man nodded to her. "Excuse me, Colonel, but I've seen court trials before, and in cases like that the defense sometimes tries to bring in questions that aren't relevant." Hawkeye followed her gaze to Tom Jacobson and immediately understood what she was getting at. "What should we do in that situation?"

"What sorts of irrelevant questions are you referring to?"

It was clear she hadn't been prepared for that question, but she recovered so quickly that Hawkeye was sure he was the only one who noticed. "For example, Lieutenant Monroe briefly served under me as a nurse. I have a reputation for being very hard on my nurses, and I am aware of that, but I think you'll agree that has very little to do with this case. However, if that was called into question, and it may be, what should I say?"

Now the JAG Colonel looked slightly taken aback, clearly not having thought of that. "All right, answer the question but stress in your answer that it has nothing to do with the case at hand. I'll try to correct any such irrelevant questions in the redirect. Any other questions? No? Dismissed!"

xxxxxxxxx

"Hawkeye, are you sure you want to be here?" Margaret asked him.

"No." He met her eyes squarely. "But I'm sure I _need_ to be here. I need to support Tom."

She squeezed his shoulder. It always amazed her how much compassion he could show even when he was facing one of the worst things that had ever happened to him in his life. But, amazing as it seemed, that was how he healed.

Hawkeye paled a little when he first caught sight of _her_ sitting behind the table with the defense attorney, and Margaret laid a hand on his arm, telling him wordlessly that if he wanted to leave, she would walk right out that door with him. But he bit his lips and steeled himself, using his free hand to briefly clasp the hand on his arm before turning his eyes towards the judge's bench and resolutely ignoring Janice Monroe.

"The prosecution calls Corporal Thomas Jacobson to the stand."

Jacobson also lost color when he saw who was in the courtroom and briefly looked like he might bolt for the exit. Hawkeye sought out his eyes, and when he found them did his best to send a wave of strength through the eye contact. He saw the younger man's shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath and then he walked forward and stood in front of the bench.

"Corporal Jacobson, do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

His voice trembled a little, but his words were loud and clear. "I do." He sat, resolutely keeping his head turned away from where _she_ sat, glaring at him. The prosecutor approached his table.

"Corporal Jacobson, on what date did you first meet Lieutenant Janice Monroe?"

"April twenty-ninth, nineteen-fifty-three."

"And where were you?"

"At a bar in Tokyo - I don't remember which." It was clear that this upset him, but Hawkeye understood completely that subsequent events had driven that detail completely from his mind.

"Can you describe, in brief, what occured after you met her, focusing specifically on her actions?"

"She identified herself as Marissa Cunningham. She suggested that we find a more private place to have some fun, and I agreed. This 'private place' turned out to be a derelict hotel, no longer in operation. Five men were waiting for us there. I felt like something was off, but she and one of the men blocked the way out before I could leave. As I was trying to push through, the others tackled me, threw me to the floor and pulled off my clothing while threatening me with a gun. Lieutenant Monroe watched and laughed as they raped me." Hawkeye admired Tom's strength of will, to say that one word without flinching. "She taunted me, asked if I enjoyed the fun evening she had planned for me. She hinted that she might want to take a turn herself, though she never followed through on this, but she did help to restrain me a few times, and the rest of the time she was just watching and laughing. After what I think was about two hours, she left with the men, leaving me there alone."

"And you are certain that it is this woman here who was responsible?"

Steeling himself visibly, he looked over to where she sat and then back to the prosecutor. "I am."

"No further questions."

The prosecutor took a seat and the defense attorney approached Tom. "Corporal Jacobson, did Lieutenant Monroe force you to enter the hotel?"

It only took a glimpse at the face of the prosecutor to realize he was shocked by this line of questioning. So the defense attorney _hadn't_ asked this of the others? Why was he asking it now?

"No, but -"

"You did, in fact, enter willingly?"

"Yes, but -"

"Corporal, there have been some interesting rumors floating around."

"Objection!" the prosecutor called out. "That is not a question."

"Sustained."

"Okay, I'll get to the point. Is it true that you have, in fact, had relationships with persons of your same sex?"

Tom's eyes dropped to the floor, and Hawkeye's heart went out to him. Besides the implications to the trial, he could very easily find himself discharged for this, and it meant having to come out about a very private part of his life.

"Yes," he said finally.

"On multiple occasions?"

"Yes, but -"

"No further questions."

"Would the prosecution like to redirect?" the judge asked.

"Yes." The prosecutor approached Tom again. "Corporal Jacobson, did you consent freely to the sexual acts performed in the hotel?"

"No."

"Did you make your lack of consent clear?"

"I believe so. I first tried to exit the room, and then when I was pinned I told them to stop and clearly said no."

"Did you do anything in that situation that might have implied consent?"

"No."

"No further questions."

The defense attorney declined to recross, and Tom was dismissed. Hawkeye stood and hurried out of the courtroom, Margaret hot on his heels, to intercept his friend.

Though Tom had left first, his limp prevented him from moving quickly and Hawkeye caught up with him. "Hey."

"I guess I knew that could happen. It was too much to hope they hadn't gotten a hold of that information."

"I'm sorry." Hawkeye gently patted Tom's shoulder.

Tom looked up at him with a forced nonchalance. "At least it's over now, right?"

xxxxxxxxx

"What do you think?" asked Mark Tyree, the only doctor present besides Hawkeye.

The trial had concluded for the day. All the witnesses had been called except for Hawkeye, Margaret, and Monroe herself, and while no one could recall exactly whose idea it had been, the prosecution's witnesses had all gathered to compare notes.

It had been established that while only Tom had been directly questioned in regards to consent and sexual history, they had all faced difficult lines of questioning designed specifically to strike at points that made their testimony questionable. The doctor, for one, had been questioned harshly about his certainty that the injuries had been caused by rape and what he based that finding on, and Brian Morrison, a Marine Private Hawkeye was sure was barely old enough to be in the Army at all, had had his story picked apart so much and been forced to recount the details so many times that he had begun to lose his cool, and been pounced on for that before the prosecutor could convince the judge to sustain an objection. Hawkeye only wondered what they would do to him. He tried not to think about it.

"I think the defense is nervous," Margaret said softly. "That's why they're doing this. They know the evidence is clearly skewed in our favor. I've been in the army a long time, and I've seen some tricks, including this one. They're trying to find any way they can to poke a hole in the case, because right now it's practically airtight. They want to start a sort of cascade effect. Pull out one thread in the hopes that it will cause the whole case to unravel."

"The major uses a lot of metaphor," Tyree said, "but her point's well taken."

"Hey," Hawkeye said, breaking the somewhat uncomfortable silence that had followed Tyree's words, "let's have a drink."

"I don't know about anyone else," John Hayes replied, "but while I could use a belt, I'm in no mood to go into a bar." Murmurs and head shakes around the table confirmed this to be the general sentiment.

"No need. All we need to do is rustle up some glasses and -" he pulled the bottle Charles had given him out of his bag, "voila."

"You think of everything." Kevin Peters raised an eyebrow.

"You can thank my bunkmate. It was his idea."

"Well, thank him for us," Tom said softly.

"I'll see what I can do about cups." Tyree was clearly sympathetic to the other men's desire to remain in the small conference room they had somehow wrangled (Hawkeye had a feeling Margaret was responsible).

"I'll come with you," Margaret added. The two of them left the room, leaving the men alone in another somewhat awkward silence until they returned a few minutes later, Tyree looking a little dazed.

"Careful now, no breaking glasses, these are borrowed from the officer's club," Margaret hastened to warn them.

"No trouble?" Hawkeye asked as he uncapped the bottle.

"There might have been," Tyree replied. "The Major didn't let trouble come to fruition."

Hawkeye laughed, startling the others and breaking the somber mood. "I should've known." He bestowed a grin on her. "She's always had her own ways of getting things."

Tyree set the tray down in front of Hawkeye, which gave him a chance to lean over and whisper into Hawkeye's ear, "for someone as thin as she is, she certainly finds plenty of weight to throw around."

He grinned even wider as he began to pour the drinks.

xxxxxxxxx

"Captain Pierce, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?"

"I do." _Her_ eyes on him made him want to be sick, but he forced himself to ignore that feeling as he sat down. He kept his own gaze fixed on the prosecutor as he walked up to the stand.

"Captain Pierce, on what date did you first meet Lieutenant Janice Monroe?"

"May fifth, nineteen-fifty-two."

"And where were you?"

"The Pink Parasol Nightclub in Tokyo." _The same place where Winchester went after he got married._ Hawkeye didn't know why that thought had crept into his mind but he was grateful for it. The small laugh it brought to him inside gave him strength.

"Can you describe, in brief, what occured after you met her, focusing specifically on her actions?"

"She told me her name was Marissa Cunningham. I was interested in her, so I bought her a couple drinks, and then she asked me if I wanted to go somewhere more private. I said I did, she said she knew a place. She led me into an abandoned building, but it wasn't private, there were already six men there. I thought it was an accident, that someone had gotten to our space before we had, so I suggested we try to find another. She told me we were in the right place, and then two of the men grabbed me and held me while a third began to remove my clothes. I said don't, I said no - the men laughed, and so did she. I was threatened with a gun if I tried to fight, and then I was - I was raped." His voice cracked on the word, but he knew that for the purposes of the trial euphemisms wouldn't cut it. At the very least his avoidance of the word would be questioned harshly by the defense. "First by the man who had removed my clothes, and then the others in turn. She said - she said she wanted a turn, that she had earned it for bringing me." Hawkeye had also learned that out of all the victims, or at least all those who had reported the assault, he had been the only one she had actually 'taken a turn' with, and it had shocked him. "They allowed it, and she raped me. Then she taunted me and laughed as the men started again." He swallowed hard, but he knew that what he had to say would serve to impress the seriousness of the assault and the depth of the pain they had caused him. "At one point during the assault, I considered fighting in order to cause them to kill me so that I wouldn't have to endure any more."

The prosecutor gasped at this extremely unexpected admission, and he wasn't alone. Most of the courtroom, even the defense attorney, visibly or audibly demonstrated shock. Margaret, sitting nearby, gave a soft cry and Hawkeye instantly felt bad as he realized he hadn't told her that part. But he continued, trying to pretend he hadn't noticed their reactions. "Finally, they left me alone. I can't be entirely sure, but I believe that the assault lasted about five hours."

"Did you recieve medical attention for injuries sustained in the attack?"

"Not immediately. I was unable to handle the idea of a stranger, even a medical professional, touching me. I had been hurt too badly. Upon returning to camp, I confided in a fellow officer, Major Margaret Houlihan, and she offered to examine me and provide necessary medical care. I accepted."

"On what date did you encounter Lieutenant Monroe for the second time?"

"June eighth, 1953."

"Where did you encounter her?"

"She was assigned to my unit, the 4077 MASH, as a nurse."

"You are certain this is the same woman?"

"I recognized her immediately, and some comments she made confirmed it."

"During her time at the 4077, did she take any action against you or harm you in any way?"

"Yes. She began by harassing me verbally, ignoring my repeated requests to be left alone, referencing what 'we had had', and making suggestive comments. Then she forced a kiss on me in the supply tent. This escalated into groping me, putting her hands in my pants. I don't know how she did it, but she always seemed to know when I was alone and she would set on me. Then I woke from a nap to find that she had removed my clothes and was in the process of raping me again."

"Did you report that assault at that time?"

"Yes. I told my commanding officer and she was arrested."

"Thank you. No further questions."

The defense attorney approached the stand. "Captain, you said you considered fighting to cause yourself to be killed. If that's true, why didn't you?"

"Too many people counting on me. Too many people would have been affected by my decision to do that. I couldn't have that on my head."

The defense attorney seemed to reel a little at this response, which disarmed his ability to follow this tangent. He recovered quickly, however. "Captain Pierce, do you recall the trial in which your commanding officer at the time, Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake, was placed on trial?"

"Objection!" The prosecutor almost jumped to his feet. "This line of questioning is irrelevant!"

"I beg the court's indulgence. The purpose of the question will become clear."

The judge considered this for a moment. "Proceed."

"Do you recall the trial?"

"Yes." Hawkeye was confused. What did that have to do with this?

"To be specific, did you or did you not at the end of the trial convince the complainants to drop the charges by threatening to reveal information about an illicit relationship they were engaged in?"

"I did," he admitted.

"What about the case of Private George Weston? Did you or did you not, along with one Doctor John McIntyre, force Major Frank Burns to drop a legitimate complaint by threatening to accuse him of cheating on a medical exam?"

"Yes." _What did they do_, _call up Frank?_ Hawkeye was starting to see the pattern here, and he didn't like it a bit.

"And is it true that the aforementioned case of George Weston involved you blocking your fellow officer's attempt to seek a discharge for a homosexual soldier?"

"Yes, but -"

"Captain, is it not also true that you frequently pursue relationships with the nurses at your unit?"

"Yes, but -"

"And is it true that you often pursue women, both Asian and American, on your leaves?"

"Yes, but -"

"Did you not willingly accompany Lieutenant Janice Monroe to this secluded location?"

"Yes, but -"

"Captain, have you ever had any sexual relations, other than the incident in question, with members of your same sex?"

"No. And let me tell you something else!" he added loudly before the attorney could interrupt him. "Even if I had, that wouldn't be relevant in this case! No matter what I consented to or how many times or with who, that doesn't change the fact that in this case, with these people, I _did not consent_. In fact, I made my lack of consent expressly clear!" He met the man's eyes square on. "Promiscuity doesn't make a person incapable of being raped."

"You've used the word rape several times. This implies a non-consensual sex act. Now, I'm no doctor, but unless my knowledge of anatomy is incomplete, a woman would be unable to carry out this act _without_ the man's consent. How do you explain this?"

"Your knowledge of anatomy _is_ incomplete." The fire that had carried Hawkeye through his last defiant assertion was far from burning itself out. "It's true that a man has to be in a state of sexual arousal in order to penetrate a woman, so you've got it right that far. But that state of arousal, that physical reaction, is completely separate from state of mind. Physical sensations can force that reaction regardless of what the person is thinking. The lieutenant was able to force my body into that reaction completely independent of my desires."

"Is that your medical opinion, or your personal one?"

"Both."

"Captain, how tall are you?"

"Uh, six-foot-two." _That was completely out of left field._

"How much do you weigh?"

"About one-eighty."

"Lieutenant Monroe, by contrast, is five feet, five inches tall and weighs one hundred and thirty-five pounds. How is it that someone so much smaller than yourself was able to overpower you, to the point where you were incapable of fighting back?"

"The first time, several of the men restrained me and, as I have mentioned, I was threatened with a gun should I try to fight. The second time, she set upon me while I was asleep so I couldn't fight back. By the time I was awake and aware, she had gained a superior position - and I think evidence will show that it is possible for a heavier person to be pinned by someone who weighs less than they do, if the lighter person is able to gain the necessary upper hand."

"No further questions."

"Would the prosecution like to redirect?"

He looked at Hawkeye for a long moment, as if gauging the statements he had already made. "Just one question. Captain Pierce, in the aforementioned incidents where you blackmailed, for lack of a better word, fellow officers, were any of the reports you threatened to make anything less than completely true, even if irrelevant to the situations in question?"

"No."

"No further questions."

"Captain, you are dismissed."

"The prosecution now calls Major Margaret Houlihan to the stand."

She gently squeezed Hawkeye's hand as she passed him. He took the seat she had vacated. She had been there to support him; he felt he had to show the same support.

"Major Houlihan, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do." She sat down.

"Major Houlihan, on what date were you first made aware of the assault committed against Captain Pierce?"

"It was either May eighth or May ninth, 1952 - it was very late, so I'm not quite sure if it was after midnight or not. Captain Pierce told me what had happened."

"And you did, as he stated, administer medical attention?"

"I did."

"Can you detail what you saw when you examined him?"

"By this point, it was the morning of May ninth, and the bruises were still severe enough that an untrained eye would most likely have believed the injuries were far more recent. His back, chest, abdomen, and sides were covered in bruises, and his arms and legs showed bruises consistent with being forcefully restrained. He had three cracked ribs, two on the left, one on the right, and severe tearing around the rectum consistent with having an object - in this case, a sexual organ - forcibly inserted and also consistent with the damage often observed in women who have been the victims of rape."

"Major, did you notice any psychological effects to Captain Pierce following the assault?"

"Several."

"Can you detail those, please?"

"Well, I'm no psychiatrist, but from an untrained perspective, his behavior was vastly different from what I would have characterized as normal for him. He was known around camp for being lighthearted, joking and laughing constantly. It was at least a week after the assault before I even saw him smile again. As the defense attorney stated, he was known for making advances towards women - that disappeared completely for a while and even once it came back he was much more timid about it. It was a long time before he was back to his old ways. Also, he was usually not particularly modest. At one point I had to give him an injection in his rear because most of the rest of the camp staff was ill." She locked eyes with him, and he smiled despite himself, remembering clearly the incident in question. "He wasn't shy about lowering his trousers, in fact he made no secret of the fact that he found the whole thing amusing. When I asked him to remove his shorts for the examination after he told me about the assault, he resisted the idea and it took me nearly half an hour to convince him to do so, and he pulled away from me as soon as I touched his hip, and then it was clearly taking him all of his strength not to do so again while I conducted the examination. In addition, he suffered a severe panic attack when a patient grabbed him in the operating room - I believe he was undergoing a flashback."

"At what point were you informed that the woman serving under your command was the same woman who had assaulted Captain Pierce?"

"The same night she arrived. Captain Pierce told me."

"Were you kept abreast of the harassment he detailed in his statement?"

"I was. At the time, I was the only one in camp who knew, he came to me when he needed to talk or be comforted. He told me what was happening."

"Did he inform you when he was raped the second time?"

"I heard that first from Colonel Potter, who was told by the Captain. Pierce then confirmed it."

"Did you notice any effects to him from that assault?"

"Yes. He was very shaken, very frightened. For several days he had to be escorted every time he left his tent and he repeatedly asked not to be left alone at any time."

"Thank you, Major. No further questions."

The defense attorney stepped up to Margaret. "Major, you say you were the only person Captain Pierce told?"

"Yes."

"However, is it not also true that you and the Captain had an antagonistic relationship at that time?"

"No, not exactly. We had had an antagonistic relationship earlier in our mutual time at the 4077, but we had begun to form a tentative friendship before this event. I believe most of the camp was unaware of this fact, however."

"Still, there were people in the camp he was closer to than you?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Then why would he confide in you?"

"In many cases, he was uncertain what reaction to anticipate from other members of the camp."

"But you, who had tried to deny him the position of chief surgeon, who had reported on his actions multiple times with the intent of getting him in trouble - he wasn't uncertain about your reaction?"

Margaret bit her lip hard, knowing what she would have to say - what she had told only a few close confidantes since the reaction to her first report had been so negative. "When I was seventeen, I was myself a victim of rape. Captain Pierce knew this. He knew I would be sympathetic."

"Is that so? Captain Pierce knew you had been a victim of rape?"

"Yes."

"Was he not also aware of your connections in high places and your spotless record?"

"Yes, but I don't see how -"

"Is it possible that the injuries to Captain Pierce were caused by something other than rape?"

"I don't believe so. The bruises and cracked ribs could, I suppose, be attributed to an assault that didn't involve rape, but the tearing couldn't be caused by anything else I can think of."

"Was there any physical evidence after the second assault?"

"No," she admitted.

"Was there any evidence, in the first instance, to suggest the sort of female-on-male rape that Captain Pierce detailed?"

"No."

"No further questions."

"Does the prosecution wish to redirect?"

"Yes. Major Houlihan, in your experience, has Captain Pierce ever created a lie of the scale that this would have to be if it were anything other than the truth?"

"Absolutely not. He may play jokes, be un-military, and occasionally threaten people with the truth they'd rather keep secret, but I have never known him to flat-out lie about something like this."

"Is Captain Pierce known for using military justice channels to right perceived wrongs?"

"No. If anything, that's more characteristic of the way I used to be than the way he is."

"Thank you, Major. No further questions."

"Major Houlihan, you are dismissed."

"The defense calls Lieutenant Janice Monroe to the stand."

"You want to stay for this?" Margaret whispered to Hawkeye as she squeezed in next to him.

"I want to see how this turns out."

She slipped her hand into his as Monroe was sworn in. The defense attorney approached the stand. "Lieutenant, you have been present for all the testimonies of the prosecution's witnesses. Do you, in fact, recall meeting those men who claimed to have met you in Tokyo?"

"Yes, I do. I worked as a nurse at Tokyo General, I went out at night. It's no different than what the men do."

"Did they appear to have a similar interest in you?"

"Down to the last man."

"Are you familiar with Captain Mark Tyree?"

"I've met him. He was a doctor serving with me at Tokyo General."

"What was your opinion of him?"

"He was a competent doctor, if a bit likely to believe what he was told, and I don't think he liked me."

"Elaborate, please, on his likeliness to believe what he was told."

"Oh, you know. Patients came in with foot wounds, claimed to have stepped on a mine or been hit by shrapnel, he never investigated further. In one or two cases, they were discovered to have shot themselves to try for a discharge."

"And elaborate on what he thought of you?"

"He was very curt to me. It wasn't really his fault, a lot of the other nurses didn't like me either, and I think they'd been spreading stories. He treated me like I couldn't be trusted."

"On what date were you transferred to the 4077 MASH?"

"The orders came through on May twenty-ninth, 1953. I arrived on June eighth along with two other nurses."

"Did you recognize Captain Pierce?"

"He's a hard man to forget," she said suggestively. Margaret felt Hawkeye's hand tighten around hers as he fought not to be sick.

"Lieutenant, please describe the events leading up to and including your arrest."

"I was in the Officers' Club, flirting with Captain Pierce, and he pushed me into a table. Colonel Potter cleared out the club and told me he would begin an investigation. I went back to my tent with the other nurses. The next thing I know, there's a sentry in my quarters saying I'm under arrest. The other nurses tried to intervene, but Colonel Potter broke us up. In the end it was decided, without my input, that Colonel Potter would explain the reason for my arrest to Major Houlihan, and she would rule on whether or not I should be arrested, and the other nurses would accept that."

"How would you describe your relationship with Major Houlihan?"

"She was very, very hard on me, seemed intent on making my life miserable. Of course, I don't really blame her. If Captain Pierce had been making accusations about me, I'm sure she was just reacting to the information she had."

"No further questions."

The prosecutor approached her. "Lieutenant Monroe, did you at any time lure any or all of the men who have spoken at this trial into a trap for the purpose of allowing others to sexually assault them?"

"I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that my answer might incriminate myself."

"Did you engage in sexual acts with Captain Pierce without his consent?"

"I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that my answer might incriminate myself."

"No further questions."

The defense declined to redirect and both sides asserted they had no more witnesses, and the prosecutor stepped up to give a closing argument.

"You have heard the testimony of witnesses," he began. "Not merely one or two, but a total of six, all of whom have identified the defendant as the woman who led them into a trap to be raped, and who taunted and harassed them as part of the assault. The idea that every single one of these witnesses is lying or mistaken is absurd. The defense has attempted to call into question the testimonies of each and every witness, but have yet to present compelling evidence to suggest any deficiency. All the defense's evidence has been circumstantial and based on some fairly significant jumps in logic. Nothing they have suggested or implied is impossible, but they have also not shown it to be probable.

"On several of my clients' cases, past sexual history has been called into question, but the relevance between those histories and this case has not been established. To paraphrase what Captain Pierce so eloquently stated, promiscuity does not preclude the possibility of rape. Nor, I submit, does sexual orientation. Whatever a person may have consented to in the past, that does not change the fact that each and every one of the witnesses has clearly stated that they did not consent to the acts in question. The defense has presented no, I repeat _no_ evidence to counter the statements of half a dozen people who identified this woman as the perpetrator, or those medical professionals who testified that they did, in fact, observe injuries consistent with rape.

"This woman has been accused of rape, conspiracy to commit rape, sexual harassment, and conspiracy to commit aggravated assault. She has presented nothing substantial to counter the overwhelming evidence that she is, in fact, guilty. The prosecution rests."

He sat and the defense attorney rose. "The prosecution presents a series of narratives to suggest that my client is guilty, but they have no proof. No one witnessed anything, no one can corroborate the accounts of her actions. Captain Pierce claims he was assaulted in Tokyo, but he reported this assault not to his commanding officer, not to a close friend, but only to a woman he had a tenuous relationship with at best, _but_ who had herself been a victim of rape and would be sympathetic to allegations of same. In addition, when she arrived in the camp, Captain Pierce still told no one but Major Houlihan, who he continued to feed tidbits about ongoing harassment. It was nearly a week after her arrival that he finally reported the assaults to his commanding officer, and of course he had a witness to back him up in Major Houlihan."

Margaret tightened her hand around Hawkeye's, using her free one to run up and down his arm. She couldn't believe they were making Hawkeye, who had suffered more than anyone, out to be the villain of the story.

"A former colleague of Captain Pierce, a Lieutenant Colonel Frank Burns, informed me in writing that Captain Pierce had several times threatened to make allegations that would have destroyed his career if then-Major Burns had refused to capitulate to his wishes. What his true grievance with my client is may remain forever unknown, but he has certainly threatened her career. What happened in the other cases is less clear, but it isn't a stretch to believe that a handful of unrelated incidents were all folded in under this umbrella, this fiction. The defense rests."

"This court will recess to consider this case."

Hawkeye was up and on his way out almost before the words were out of the judge's mouth, Margaret close on his heels, connected to him by the hand she still held. He faltered once he was out of the courtroom, as if unsure where to go, and she guided him the half-block to the hotel where they were staying. She unlocked the door to his room and guided him inside, helping him sit on the bed.

"What can I do?" she whispered soothingly. "What do you need? Tell me."

"I need to wake up from this nightmare," he replied brokenly. "Will this ever be over?"

"Soon, Hawkeye, soon." She rubbed his back, silently praying that it would end the way they both hoped. "It'll be over soon."

He reached out his arms like a child wanting to be picked up. "Hold me, Margaret. Please hold me."

She pulled him close, wrapping her arms securely around his back. She could feel him shivering against her body. "You're safe in here. You're safe. I'm here." She felt him clutching her shirt and had to fight the urge to cry. It just wasn't fair, everything he had had to go through.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he whispered weakly.

"Come on." She released him from the embrace and pulled him to his feet, leading him into the bathroom. He doubled over the toilet, bringing up everything in his stomach. She stood next to him, rubbing circles into his back, until he finally drew up shakily.

"I don't think there's anything left in me," he said, his voice still weak and shaky.

She filled a glass with water. "Here. Rinse your mouth."

He took it from her gratefully, using some of it to rinse his mouth and draining the rest. "I need to lie down," he told her when he'd finished. "Please, I just need to lie down."

"Of course, of course." She laid Hawkeye down in the bed, pulling off his dress uniform so he was just in his shorts.

"You're not going to go back to your room, are you?"

"Not unless you want me to," she assured him. "If you want me here, I'm here."

"I want you here," he whispered.

"I knew you would." She began to stroke his hair. "Rest. Just rest."

His eyes slid closed, and he let darkness consume him.

**Sorry about the delay. I actually had this ready to go a few days ago but my Internet's been out so I couldn't post it. I've already started on the next chapter.**

**This chapter references the episodes _Mr. and Mrs. Who?_, _George_, _The Trial of Henry Blake_, and _Carry On, Hawkeye_.**

**I'm not sure if the lawyer contacting Frank is actually the way things would happen but it makes for an unexpected twist.**

**Please review.**


	28. Chapter TwentyEight: It's All Over

**When You Need Me Most**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine.

_**Chapter Twenty-Eight: It's All Over**_

"I'm sorry, Margaret."

Hawkeye had woken at about five in the morning after falling asleep around dinnertime, and Margaret, who had kept to her promise to stay with him and fallen asleep shortly after him in a t-shirt she had borrowed from his bag, had woken when he got up to use the bathroom. With little to do until 0800 when the court would reconvene, they had begun to talk about the trial.

"What for?"

"For what I didn't tell you until I happened to mention it in your presence about - about wanting to die."

"Oh, Hawkeye." She scooted closer to him under the blanket. "Hawkeye, I don't blame you. You must have been hurting so much." She rubbed his bare back. "I'm only sorry I didn't know."

"I felt so awful about it. So guilty. I buried it and didn't tell anyone until Sidney came to talk to me after Monroe's arrest. He helped me work through the guilt - but in some ways, it's harder to handle now then when it first happened."

"Why?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair.

"Because of everything that's happened since then. If I had done what I thought about, I wouldn't have been there to create that new clamp, or see Radar grow up like he did in those last few months, or meet Charles -"

"Or see Frank flip his lid?"

Her comment served its purpose, and he smiled despite himself, but he grew serious again quickly. "Or be there for you with everything you went through with Donald, or see what kind of a friendship two people as different as you and me can have if they look past the differences."

"But you did see all of that." She scooted a little closer to him. "You had the thought, you didn't act on it. Stop beating yourself up over something you didn't do, Hawkeye. You've been hurt enough without causing yourself more pain."

"I'm just sorry I hurt you by blurting it out with no warning."

"It hurts me to realize how much you were hurting, that's all. I knew it had been bad, but I didn't know - _five hours_. I didn't realize it was so bad you wanted to die."

"I didn't want to die," he said softly. "I just wanted an alternative to what I was going through. _Any_ alternative."

She kissed his forehead. "I know. But I'm still sorry."

"I'm scared, Margaret," he whispered.

"Of what?"

"That she won't be convicted. That she'll get set free and - I don't know _and what_ exactly, but she made my life miserable enough when I hadn't tried to get her put in the stockade."

"No one would let her anywhere near the camp." Margaret kissed his forehead again.

"I love you, Margaret. Oh, don't get me wrong," he added quickly, "I don't mean it like that. I'm not ready for that yet, and we've already agreed it wouldn't work. But I love you the same way I love BJ - like family. You've been here for me through so much - I don't know what I would have done without you."

"Same," she said softly, bringing his head into her shoulder. "You've done more for me than I think you'll ever understand. You gave me myself back."

"What?"

"That woman you met on my first day in camp - that wasn't me. That was me trying to be what I thought I should be, everything from promiscuous to tough and unfeeling. I had buried the least pleasant parts of my past and had a mask I showed to the world but you - you saw the mask at first, but when I was really hurting, you encouraged me to let my guard down, and without realizing it you had started to peel away that mask. What I said after we spent that night together, that you helped me when I was afraid and so I might have the courage to tell someone when I was afraid - you pulled that mask away and let me see that it was okay not to have it on all at once. I hated you when I first met you, but now I don't know what would have happened to me if I hadn't met you. I'd probably still be that woman you first met, the one who slept with everyone who crossed her path and didn't let anyone get close."

He closed his eyes, pressing his head tighter into her shoulder. "I hate this war. But at least something good came out of it."

"Come on," she said gently. "It's 0700. We both need to shower and eat before the trial reconvenes."

xxxxxxxxx

Hawkeye was both relieved and upset when the judge stepped behind his table. On one hand, the awful waiting was over. On the other, if the ruling was what he feared instead of what he hoped, the waiting would be pleasant by comparison.

"The court has reviewed the evidence, and has determined that the argument of the defense is based on speculation and innuendo with no real evidence."

That certainly sounded good. Hawkeye tightened his hand around Margaret's. Dare he hope?

"Furthermore, the prosecution has presented a large amount of true evidence, including a number of witnesses whose stories all line up, and several of which have been corroborated by medical records. This court finds the defendant, Lieutenant Janice Monroe, guilty on six counts of sexual harassment, two counts of rape, one count of other sexual assault, and six counts of conspiracy to commit rape, in consideration of which, the defendant is sentenced to a life sentence in military prison."

The reaction of the gathered witnesses for the prosecution was immediate. Several cheers were released, Tom Jacobson whispered "Thank God. Thank God," and Hawkeye collapsed against Margaret, shaking with the sudden rush of adrenaline, half-laughing and half-crying from sheer relief.

"In addition, the defendant is of this moment stripped of all military rank, honors, pay, and benefits. This trial is adjourned."

"Hey, Hawkeye!" Tom called out joyfully. "You drink all the scotch last night?"

"Didn't have a drop," he said honestly. "Come on, let's go!"

"Where?"

"My hotel room. We'll make it work."

xxxxxxxxx

Potter reached for his phone, wondering what it could be this time. Business had been brisk the past few days, and with Hawkeye gone everyone had had to shoulder a greater share of the load. He'd only just woken from the first sleep he'd had in over two days. "Hello?"

"_Colonel?_"

"Major? What's going on?" He was immediately sitting up straighter, eager for a status update.

"_It's over, Colonel, she's been convicted._"

"That's good to hear, Margaret." He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Believe me, it's right good to hear. Is Hawkeye there?"

"_Right here, sir. You want to talk to him?_"

"Put him on."

He vaguely heard Margaret's voice talking to someone, then Hawkeye came over the line. "_Hello, Colonel._"

"Congratulations, son."

"_I'm just glad it's over. I'm glad they're locking her away._"

"I'm sure you are. When are you due back?"

"_Couple of hours. Oh, and tell Charles I'm sorry, but there's no scotch left for him._"

"Do I want to know?"

"_I don't know, do you?_"

Potter smiled at the very characteristic remark. "It'll be good to see you."

xxxxxxxxx

The Swamp was quiet when Hawkeye entered. Potter had explained to him how rough the last few days had been, and what he saw didn't surprise him a bit - both of his bunkmates were fast asleep. BJ, however, woke as soon as the door closed.

"Yeah?" He buried his face in a pillow. "Don't tell me it's more wounded."

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Hawk!" His sleep forgotten, BJ jumped to his feet. "Good news?"

Hawkeye nodded. "Convicted."

"Thank God." He pulled Hawkeye into a tight hug. "They give you a rough time?"

"You might say that."

"Sit down, have a drink, tell me what happened." BJ took Hawkeye's bag from him and dumped it onto the floor.

"Yeah, all right." He took the drink BJ offered. "Well, first they started asking me a bunch of questions, basically implying that either it was consensual or I made the whole thing up. Then the closing argument basically made out that I was the center-point of some massive conspiracy. Lucky for me, the judge didn't buy it."

"Must've been rough."

Hawkeye recognized the statement for what it was; a pressure-free invitation to talk. "Yeah, it was. I spent the entire time fighting not to throw up."

"Well, you're safe here now." BJ rubbed his shoulder.

"Hunnicutt, what in the world - Pierce! You're back."

"Nah, it's just a viscous rumor."

The statement was so offhand it was hardly of note, but BJ grinned nonetheless. It really was great to see Hawkeye acting more like his old self. Charles smiled too, knowing that if the outcome hadn't been favorable, he wouldn't be acting this way.

"I'm afraid we drank all your scotch."

"Pierce, I know you. Do you honestly believe I would have given you alcohol if I expected any of it to be returned?"

Hawkeye grinned. "Believe me, it was much appreciated. Thank you."

xxxxxxxxx

"I can't believe this," Hawkeye said softly.

"Me niether."

Hawkeye and BJ were seated on their respective cots across from each other. This would be the last night they would spend on these cots. Tomorrow, they were both headed for home. Just like that, the war was over.

The last month had been rough. Just a few days after Hawkeye's trial had been the Fourth of July, and Potter had given most of them the day off and let them use a bus to go to the beach at Inchon. It had been for all of them, but especially for Hawkeye, who desperately needed a chance to relax and let go after the hell that had been June. But their vacation had turned into a nightmare. On the way back, they'd picked up some passengers, including a Korean woman with an infant. When they'd had to hide from North Koreans, the baby wouldn't stop crying, and everyone was petrified they would be found. Hawkeye, all too vividly remembering his last experience in a North Korean POW camp, had hissed at the woman in an impulsive, terrified moment to keep the baby quiet. Then, to his horror, she had smothered it.

The scene had been awful for everyone, but it had been too much for Hawkeye's already-overwrought mind. Filled with guilt for telling her to silence it, for being there in the first place, he had lost it completely, pushing the memory out of his conscious mind until it drove him crazy two days later, and he was shipped off to the funny farm in Tokyo.

Sidney had helped him work through it, forcing the memory back into consciousness and then helping him through the residual pain. He had also gone through a phase of being afraid of children, but just that afternoon he'd managed to operate on a child, and he was glad that he had. It was good to know he could do it.

Meanwhile, BJ had been discharged by some sort of clerical error, only to be stopped at Guam and sent back when someone realized the screw-up. But like Trapper, he had failed to leave a note, and it had taken Hawkeye awhile to forgive that. The euphoria he had felt when the war had been declared over had probably helped.

"I'm sorry, Hawk," BJ said finally. "You have to understand, I got that chopper out of here with ten minutes' notice. I barely had time to pack, let alone figure out how to put everything I wanted to say into words." He met Hawkeye's eyes firmly. "I would have called the second I got back to the States. I wanted to do better than Trapper did."

It clicked so suddenly that Hawkeye was shocked he hadn't noticed it before. "You think I've been comparing you all this time?"

"Well -"

"For God's sake, Beej, why didn't you say something?"

"What should I have said?"

"I don't know, just _something_. So that we could get the conversation started, so that I could tell you that I haven't been comparing you at all."

"You haven't?"

"Okay, maybe once or twice, like when you nailed my boot to the floor." BJ grinned at the memory as Hawkeye kept speaking. "But overall - you're different than he is, there's no question."

"The first day I met you, you barely noticed me because you were so upset about Trapper."

"Not quite true," Hawkeye replied gently. "At first, I didn't notice you, but even then I remember you offering to help with a problem you didn't even understand. Do you want to know what the first words were that I really remember you saying?"

"What?"

"'Rudyard Kipling.' That was when I realized I was dealing with a kindred spirit, someone with the same sense of humor I had. What I saw when I looked at you, really looked, was a kid, only the least innocent person in the entirety of Kimpo because Radar happened to have been my traveling companion, thrown into the middle of this awful mess, and I made a vow to myself that I'd get you home in one piece. That protective instinct that to that point had only come out around Radar came out around you. You had such an awful first day, I was worried about you. I missed Trapper, but I knew I'd met someone who would become very special to me - and I was right. You're not Trapper, and I only wish I'd told you that a long time ago."

BJ swallowed the lump in his throat and moved across the tent to sit next to Hawkeye. "I was scared stiff coming out here. I didn't know how I was going to handle what I was getting myself into. You got me through this, Hawk, and don't ever doubt it. Even if there are a few things I wish you had told me." He slid a gentle arm around Hawkeye's shoulders. "You let me lean on you, and you looked after me. Thank you."

"Thank you for being there when I needed you."

"I just wish you'd told me when it first happened so I could have been there for you then too."

Hawkeye turned into BJ and embraced him. "That was my decision. Don't ever feel guilty about it."

"Hawkeye, tell me the truth. If it was Trapper, would you have told?"

"Maybe," he said softly, "but that has nothing to do with our bond. Trapper wasn't someone I felt the need to protect." He smiled a little. "You know, what you just said reminds me a lot of something I once said to him when we thought he would get sent home with an ulcer. I guess my role was reversed. He helped me like I helped you."

"I thought you were here at the 4077 from the time it opened."

"I was, and so was he. We showed up at about the same time. But he had this sense of being older. He was, I suppose that helps, but he'd been through rough times before, though not as rough as this. He was tougher than I was, and he was willing to take me under his wing."

"Like you did for me."

"Exactly."

"Hawkeye, I had a thought."

"What?"

"When we take the still apart, let's each take some of the pieces. That way we'll have an excuse to see each other again."

Hawkeye's grin nearly split his face. "Yeah. Let's do that."

xxxxxxxxx

"Hey." Margaret stood aside to let Hawkeye into her tent. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to talk to you. I figure we won't get the chance tomorrow to really talk."

She nodded, indicating for him to sit on her bed and joining him when he did.

"I'm proud of you, Margaret, for taking control of your own life."

She knew he was talking about her decision to return to the States and continue her nursing duties against her father's wishes. "I finally decided it was time to make my own decisions. As annoying as it's been, maybe Charles' indignation at my helping him helped _me_ to realize how much I was used to letting people control my life."

"Good for you."

"I'm glad you're okay," she said softly.

"I wouldn't be if you hadn't been here. I don't know where I'd be. I said this last month but I need to say it again - you saved me, Margaret."

"I'm going to miss you, you know."

"Yeah, me too. Listen, you know where I'll be. Call me if you ever need anything."

"Hawkeye -"

"Promise me, Margaret."

"All right. I promise."

**The End**

**Don't worry, more is still to come! Check out the sequel to this story, _The Best-Laid Plans_, which will have been posted by the time you finish reading this and will be available on my profile.**

**This chapter references the episodes _Patent 4077_, _Fade Out, Fade In_, _Welcome to Korea_, and _Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen._**

**I want to thank all my loyal reviewers. You guys are amazing.**

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